


Babysitting Blues

by scarlettcat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Puns, Banter, Bets & Wagers, Drinking Games, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Explicit Language, F/M, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Horcruxes, Humor, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Love Triangles, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 56
Words: 232,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26452447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettcat/pseuds/scarlettcat
Summary: The summer before 7th year, Hermione gets her first official assignment as an Order member. Babysitting Draco Malfoy! As can be expected, chaos ensues.
Relationships: Gregory Goyle/Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 53
Kudos: 52





	1. Hermione's Headache

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've decided to add all of my old stories to this site. _Babysitting Blues_ is my first ever fanfiction. I started writing it in 2008 and am embarrassed to admit that I am still writing it twelve years later. Ha! It's very long though, and I only have a few chapters left to go. I am hoping posting it here will give me that extra motivation to push me to the end. 
> 
> Anyway, if you are interested in reading this story, I should warn you (because I've been told I should) that this story is very raunchy and ridiculous. It starts off very tame, but apparently over time, I got a lot more comfortable writing naughty things. :) It's not detailed enough to be smutty, but it is definitely raunchy. There are way too many bad words and some of the situations are probably going to make you squirm from embarrassment. To be honest, I'm a little embarrassed I thought of some of this stuff much less wrote it down for others to read. 
> 
> As far as Hermione goes (My poor, misunderstood Hermione!), she is not a blushing virgin and while exceedingly smart, she does a lot of dumb things. Probably the most complaints I get about this story are my choice of pairings. I actually didn't list everyone I pair Hermione with because I didn't want it to look like a harem fic, which it is not. I just really enjoy a jealous Draco Malfoy. ;) One of my pairings, which I am sure you can guess which one, is highly controversial. It is not a crack pairing! I am very serious about him. In fact, I am extremely smitten with him. I am very proud of the characterization I did with him and only ask that you give him a chance. Dramione is my OTP, so there is really nothing to be scared of. 
> 
> This story is pure chaos, but it's written all in good fun. I can tell you that I smirk quite a lot while writing it. I think it is very funny, but of course, that is subjective. Also, I do not have a beta for this story. It's just way too long, and I don't have the time. I will post chapters as quickly as I can, but I do not find uploading very fun. Hopefully, I didn't scare you off, and you will give my story a try. I would love to hear what you think!

Hermione felt someone behind her gently start kissing the back of her neck. She could feel his warm breath on her skin, and it made her shiver in anticipation. She closed her eyes and turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck. His lips touched hers, and it was magic. It started with an innocent peck, which was anything but, and slowly built into an all out satisfying, weak in the knees kiss that made her melt into him. Viktor was a good kisser, but it had never felt like this before. His lips were so soft, gentle yet demanding. She felt as though she could kiss him forever and be completely happy in his arms. This feeling was so new to her. She couldn’t quite put it into words. Could she finally be falling in love? Could he be the one?

“Oh Vik …” she began but as she opened her eyes, she said, “Malfoy? Malfoy! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Hermione suddenly sat up in bed screaming. She had been having such a lovely dream, and it had to be him. She would have rather it had been Ron or Harry or even Neville, anyone but him. She threw herself back on the bed and lay there slightly panting, trying to recover from her nightmare. Hermione had been having a lot of nightmares lately, ever since that night, but they were usually about Death Eaters invading the castle, the Dark Mark floating in the sky, Dumbledore lying dead beneath the Astronomy Tower. Never anything remotely like this. This was unthinkable. Malfoy? She shuddered just thinking about it.

Hermione decided to get up and get dressed. The sun was already up, and there was no point trying to go back to sleep. Not after that dream! She had been enjoying it. Yuck! Hermione shook the unpleasant and thoroughly disgusting thought from her head, at least she told herself it was unpleasant and disgusting. What she needed was some fresh air to clear her head. Grabbing an apple from the kitchen, she picked up her newest purchase from Flourish and Blotts and headed outside to do a bit of light reading.

It had been exactly one month since Dumbledore’s funeral. Hermione was having a hard time dealing with the aftermath of it all. She still couldn’t believe Dumbledore was really dead. And she couldn’t stop blaming herself. If only …

Hermione sat outside her parents’ house underneath her favorite oak tree with an enormous book on her lap, _Standard Book of Spells: Grade 7_ , and let out a big sigh. She was trying to get a head start on her studies for the year, not that she even knew if she was going back to Hogwarts or not. There were the Horcruxes to think about after all. Harry had not yet decided what he wanted to do. Hermione knew that whatever his decision was, she would stick by him. Of course, she secretly hoped they would return to school. She felt they could go to school and search for Horcruxes. Then they would have the library for research. Oh, how she missed that library! And there was something about Hogwarts that just made her feel safe. Not that it proved to be all that safe last year when the Death Eaters invaded the castle. And now with Dumbledore gone, she just didn’t know anymore.

Ever since she had returned home for the summer, she had been trying to think of something, anything that could get them out of the mess they were in. She wanted so desperately to help Harry destroy the Horcruxes and defeat Voldemort. She had had a terrible headache ever since she got home, perhaps because of everything on her mind and the fact that she was having trouble sleeping at night. It seemed every time she closed her eyes (well except this last time!), she went back to that night. It pained her to think about it, but she couldn’t stop herself. If only she had listened to Harry. Maybe their beloved professor wouldn’t be dead.

Harry had warned them that Malfoy was up to something, but Hermione just couldn’t bring herself to believe it. Sure Malfoy was an arrogant git who thought he was better than everyone else because of his name and money, not to mention the fact that he was a Pureblood. And there’s no denying he picked on the other students (especially her, Ron and Harry) with help from his thickheaded bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle. He was definitely no saint. She didn’t know why she had defended him. There wasn’t a moment that went by that he didn’t let her know about the disgust he felt for her, and he had called her Mudblood more times than she could count. But a murderer? A Death Eater? She found the whole notion ridiculous. Why?

Malfoy had certainly let it be known that he hated Muggles and especially Mudbloods. Hadn’t he even wished her dead when the Chamber of Secrets was opened? Hermione sighed again. She was just too trusting. She had trusted Snape too. And that thought made her sick. Snape had actually killed Dumbledore, and he was a teacher! Not that the mere fact of being a teacher meant that much now that she thought about it. Look at Quirrell and Moody (well really Barty Crouch Jr.) and Umbridge. She shuddered just thinking about them. They were all evil. Malfoy was evil.

Hermione was suddenly startled from her thoughts when she heard a soft crack behind her. Without a thought, she jumped to her feet and raised her wand to the intruder. 

“Well, well, well. Very good, Hermione. Nice reflexes,” said a tired, slightly shabby looking man as he stepped out from behind the tree.

“Professor Lupin!” cried Hermione as she rushed into his arms.

Remus Lupin laughed. “It’s good to see you too, Hermione. Although I’m not really your professor anymore. You can call me Remus, you know. I think we have been through enough together to be on a first name basis.”

Hermione saw a slight look of sadness creep into his eyes at that last comment. They certainly had been through a lot together. And not all of it good. “Sorry, Remus. Old habit I guess. Of course, even though it was for only one year, you’ve been more of a professor to me than some.” 

“Yes, I don’t think I will be reprimanding any of you for not giving Snape the respectful title of professor any time soon,” Remus replied ruefully.

“I still can’t believe he did it,” Hermione murmured, looking down sadly.

“Snape was never a friend of course, what with our history and all, but I really thought he was on our side. Dumbledore believed him and that was good enough for me. It’s a shame really. He was a good spy. Too good I guess. At least Dumbledore was right about Malfoy. He’s not like his father after all.”

“What do you mean?” asked Hermione, somewhat heatedly. He’s just like his father. He’s a bloody Death Eater,” she spat.

“But he didn’t kill Dumbledore,” said Remus quietly.

“He might as well have. It was his plan after all. His stupid plan with that stupid Vanishing Cabinet and his stupid Hand of Glory. He let the Death Eaters into the castle. He disarmed Dumbledore. He wrote his death sentence,“ said Hermione, beginning to raise her voice.

“But he didn’t kill him. Voldemort gave him the order personally to kill Dumbledore. Voldemort threatened his life and the life of his family and yet he didn’t do it. He didn’t do it, Hermione.”

“I know,” Hermione admitted rather reluctantly. “But he’s still a git.”

“That he is, Hermione.” Remus laughed. Then he asked more seriously, “How are you doing?”

“Not bad considering. I’m not sleeping very well with the nightmares and all, so I’ve had a headache for ages now. I guess the worst of it is that I feel so useless. I need to be doing something. Anything.”

Remus smiled. “That’s what I came about actually. I was hoping you could help us with something. This would be your first official assignment as a member of the Order of Phoenix.”

“Are you serious, Remus!” Hermione squealed. “I can really be an Order member?”

“Well, It’s not like we can stop you three from getting into trouble anyway. You’re involved in this whole war whether we like it or not. You’ve had more adventures than many of our Order members. We know you can handle yourselves, and we don’t want you to fight this war alone when we can win it together.”

Hermione was ecstatic. She really hadn’t thought the Order would let in three teenagers who hadn’t even finished school yet, despite everything they had accomplished. “Thanks, Remus. That really means a lot. So, what’s the assignment anyway? Are Harry and Ron helping, too?”

“Well, let’s just say this assignment isn’t really their cup of tea,” said Remus, smiling. “Besides, Harry’s at the Dursley’s this summer on Dumbledore’s orders and Ron’s busy at the Burrow helping get ready for the wedding.”

“Oh,” said Hermione with a hint of disappointment in her voice. “This has to do with research doesn’t it?” She loved books and all, but she was hoping for a little bit more of an exciting assignment.

Remus laughed. “Hermione Granger disappointed about being asked to read books? Now I really do believe the world is ending.”

“I’m sorry. Of course I’d love to help with research. It’s just that I can do more, too. Sometimes I think people only see me as some hopeless bookworm, and I’m more than that,” said Hermione a little sheepishly.

“I know that, Hermione. And actually this assignment has nothing to do with research.”

“It doesn’t?” asked Hermione incredulously. “That’s wonderful! I was really hoping to do something more challenging, something more hands-on.”

“Well,” began Remus. “It certainly will be challenging, but let’s hope it’s not too hands-on. How do you feel about babysitting?”

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. She was a little more than perplexed by the question. Babysitting! That’s the big thing they wanted her to do. She was slightly offended by the idea. Of course, she had babysat before. She was good with kids. But this was even a step down from research. Next to babysitting, research seemed positively thrilling. Research was at least a contribution. It was important. It could make a real difference in the outcome of the war. What, did they expect her to watch Order members’ kids while they went out on secret missions, while they did the real work? It was preposterous. They were treating her like she was some teenager. Well, she was a teenager, but she was also a witch, the smartest witch of her age, and she had proven herself! She was Hermione frigging Granger, and she could handle a lot more than babysitting!

“Now, Hermione. Don’t look at me like that. It’s not what you think. This isn’t any ordinary babysitting job. In fact, this will be a most difficult task. One that Harry and Ron certainly could not handle. It will take all of your patience, some kindness, a good deal of restraint and probably a few good hexes wouldn’t hurt,” said Remus seriously yet with a hint of a smile.

Hermione was definitely intrigued now. This was something Remus felt she could handle but Harry and Ron couldn’t. She had to admit this did a lot for her ego. She often felt like people (especially Harry and Ron) saw her as just some human encyclopedia. She was really flattered that Remus considered her for this job. It sounded really challenging, and she got to use magic! Hermione couldn’t wait to get started. “Who will I be babysitting?”

“Here’s the thing, Hermione. Babysitting is perhaps too nice of word for this assignment. In fact, I’ve had a really hard time convincing anyone to take it. I don’t expect it will be pleasant, especially for you of all people. I’ve been taking care of this myself so far, but with the full moon coming, I really need to find someone else. Plus, I have other business I need to handle for the Order. I really hate to ask this of you, but frankly, you’re my last resort. Hermione, I don’t know how to say this other than just to say it,” said Remus, not looking her in the eye.

“Well, say it then,” said Hermione, starting to feel a little nervous. Remus appeared to be very uncomfortable. “I’ll help the Order in any way I can. I’m not expecting it to be fun. Who is it?”

“It’s Malfoy,” Remus admitted.

“I see,” said Hermione quietly, not certain whether to scream, cry or laugh hysterically. Hermione suddenly realized that her headache was just beginning and likely to turn into a real pain in the ass.


	2. Room Rage

A week later, Hermione stood in front of her fireplace utterly terrified. She had hoped the last time she had seen Malfoy would be just that, the last. And now she was flooing to number 12 Grimmauld Place to spend the next two months with him alone. She liked to think the experience of almost killing someone and not just anyone but the greatest wizard of our time would change him, but she highly doubted it. He was Malfoy after all. She wasn’t going to be so trusting this time. 

In fact, ever since she found out about her assignment, Hermione had been looking up every jinx and hex she could find to help keep Malfoy in line. She had a whole arsenal ready at her disposal. She had even interrogated Dobby his former house elf in an effort to find out his weaknesses. She had felt rather bad about that as she suspected Dobby might have punished himself after revealing some very interesting family secrets to her despite the fact that she had forbidden him to harm himself. She eased her guilt slightly by vowing to start up S.P.E.W. again. Anyway, with all the research she had done, Hermione felt confident that she was ready for Malfoy. Let him just try and do something to her. She’d gladly wipe that smirk off his face. Stupid Malfoy.

Hermione looked up at the clock. It was 9:00 at night. She hadn’t meant to leave this late, but her parents had insisted on taking her out to dinner. They had expected to have her the whole summer and were not too happy with her leaving after only one month. Maybe she could make it up to them by coming home for Christmas. Of course if she was still in charge of Malfoy she would probably have to bring him with her. It would be fun torture making him spend the holidays with Muggles, especially her parents. She didn’t expect that he would make a very pleasant house guest though. In fact, she was quite positive he would make a rather rude one. Oh well, maybe she could pass him off on another Order member. 

“Well, here goes nothing,” she murmured. She stepped into the fireplace, threw down the Floo Powder and said clearly, “Number 12 Grimmauld Place.” She felt the odd sensation of twirling through the Floo Network and landed with a thud in Grimmauld Place. As she stared out of the fireplace, she immediately locked eyes with Malfoy.

“Granger,” he said. Then he gave his trademark smirk and walked away.

Hermione wasn’t sure what to do. He just walked away. He smirked at her and walked away. It was a hit and run smirk! What the hell? She had been expecting insults, shouting, whining or worse. Not this. She didn’t know why, but it infuriated her. So, she stomped off after him to give him a piece of her thoroughly pissed off mind.

Hermione looked around the front parlor and didn’t see him anywhere. She then checked the study and only found a room full of books. This was the room she intended on spending most of the summer in. She thought she could maybe get in some research on Horcruxes while she was working on her assignment for the Order. The Black family had acquired an awful lot of dark arts books over the years, and Hermione planned on taking full advantage of this. Despite being adamant with Remus about not wanting to always be stuck in the role of researcher, Hermione couldn’t help herself. It was just her thing.

Malfoy wasn’t anywhere on the first floor. So, she took a deep breath and headed upstairs, being very careful not to wake up Sirius’ mother’s portrait. Hermione didn’t need Mrs. Black calling her a Mudblood right now. When Hermione got upstairs, her anger subsided slightly, and she started to get a bit nervous. All of the doors were closed. Behind one of these doors was Malfoy’s bedroom. She blushed at the thought and then got mad at herself for acting like a silly schoolgirl. She was a schoolgirl, but Hermione Granger was definitely not silly. She was an Order member after all. 

Harry and Ron’s bedroom was the first she came to. She took a deep breath and turned the doorknob so as to not make any noise. Then she slowly opened the door with her wand raised in anticipation. There was nothing there except an empty slightly dusty bedroom. Very quietly, she walked into the room and looked around. On one side of the room was a tall wardrobe. There was plenty of room for Malfoy to hide in there. Of course, it could just be a Bogart disguised as Malfoy. She would try Stupify first and then if that didn’t work she would try Riddikulus. After Hermione had her plan, she flung open the door. There were just some old robes, thankfully none of the strangling kind. 

The only place left for someone to hide was under the beds. She went to the first bed and got down on her hands and knees and leaned down to look under the bed. Not the loveliest position to be in but necessary. She quickly pulled up the bed skirt and shoved her head and wand under the bed causing her butt to stick up even farther in the air. Dust bunnies everywhere but no Malfoy. Hermione started giggling. The adrenaline rush had rather gone to her head, and she found the whole situation quite amusing.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

Shit! Hermione bumped her head on the bed pulling it out and whipped around to see Malfoy across the hall casually leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. It looked like he had been there awhile. Hermione blushed and then as an afterthought raised her wand. She silently cursed herself for letting her guard down and completely forgetting about her wand in her embarrassment. Some Order member she was. She bet Moody wouldn’t have been caught giggling and blushing and forgetting about his wand on account of Draco Malfoy. At least she hoped not and had to stifle another giggle at the thought of it. What was wrong with her?

“Well, I was, um…” stammered Hermione. “Wait a minute. What are you doing in my room?”

“This is my room,” replied Malfoy.

“No it isn’t,” said Hermione testily. “It’s my room. It’s been my room for the past two years.”

“Well, the werewolf did put me in the small room next door, but this one was better, and Malfoys require the best. Even if the best here is somewhat lacking,” he sneered.

“Get out of my room, Malfoy!”

“Make me, Granger.”

“You think I won’t?”

Malfoy smirked. “You know, the werewolf said they would be sending an Order member to keep an eye on me. I can’t believe they sent you.”

“I am an Order member,” said Hermione angrily. His attitude was definitely not appreciated. Who did he think he was?

“That’s a laugh. The know it all Mudblood of Gryffindor is a member of the great Order of Phoenix. I don’t know how anyone thinks the Dark Lord can be defeated by your rag tag band of misfits you call the Order. You really think you can defeat him with wonder boy and the help of a werewolf, a one-eyed crazy man, a half giant, a thief, some blood traitors, filthy Mudbloods and a bunch of Weasels? It’s a bloody joke. And now they send a silly schoolgirl to guard me, a Malfoy. It’s insulting, that’s what it is,” seethed Malfoy.

“Well,” fumed Hermione, really not pleased about being called a silly schoolgirl. “I helped put one Malfoy in Azkaban, I think I can handle his snotty nose kid!”

Malfoy stepped back into the room.

“Where do you think you’re going, Malfoy?”

“I’m going to my room, so I don’t have to look at your ugly Mudblood face!” yelled Malfoy, slamming the door in her face.

Hermione was livid. How dare he? “Alohamora,” she screamed, opening the door. “Get out of my room!”

Malfoy of course smirked as she was pointing her wand in his face. Did he have any other facial expressions? Then what he did next made her eyes widen and her mouth fall completely open. He was slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “I don’t think I can do that right now. You see, all of this yelling has made me extremely tired. So, I am going to bed. My bed. And in case you’re wondering. Yes, I do sleep naked.” 

His shirt was completely off now, and he started undoing his pants. Hermione was about to flee the room, her arms up in surrender when a smile came across her face. 

“Like what you see?” he asked maliciously.

“Petrificus Totalus,” said Hermione calmly. And with that Malfoy keeled over backwards with one foot already out of his pants. She leaned over him and said, “I’ve seen better.” She levitated him out into the hallway and dropped him with a thud. His clothes and other worldly possessions zoomed out after him. She lifted the spell and slammed the door in his face.

“Granger!”

“Silencio!” yelled Hermione, pointing her wand at the door. Silence filled the room. Complete and utterly blissful silence. Hermione dropped onto the bed extremely exhausted from her dealings with Malfoy. However, the moment she thought of Malfoy, she leaped off the bed feeling thoroughly disgusted. Malfoy had slept in her bed. Naked! Ewww! She did a quick Scourgify and somewhat reluctantly climbed back into bed. She would have liked to have her comfy pajamas, but she wasn’t about to leave her room to go get her things. It wasn’t like she was scared of Malfoy necessarily. She didn’t think he would kill her. He hadn’t been able to kill Dumbledore after all. And she could take care of herself. But she did not feel like dealing with him anymore tonight. She didn’t like to admit it, but Malfoy made her nervous. He was unpredictable. She couldn’t ever tell what he was thinking, not like she could with Ron or even Harry for that matter. She could read them both like a book. She smiled at the thought.

Feeling uncomfortable sleeping in her clothes, Hermione wriggled out of her jeans and pulled up the blanket. Her bare legs against the sheets unfortunately felt even more uncomfortable as she thought of Malfoy lying there naked. Although he had looked rather good with his shirt off. She blushed thinking about it and then started giggling again until she finally fell asleep.

As usual, Hermione woke up early the next morning but in a surprisingly good mood. To her chagrin, she had slept rather well thanks to some pleasant albeit slightly disturbing dreams. Malfoy had a weird effect on her and so did the knowledge that he had slept naked in her bed. Hermione got up and got ready to venture outside her bedroom to the bathroom down the hall. She figured this was the best time to take a shower, as Malfoy probably wasn’t up yet and therefore unlikely to disturb her. After all, Harry and Ron were never up this early. Weren’t all teenage boys alike? 

She threw on her jeans, grabbed her wand and headed for the bathroom. As she had thought, no one was about and she made it to the bathroom unscathed. As she stood underneath the hot steamy shower, she felt all of her troubles wash away. She took a little longer than planned because it felt so good. When she finally got out of the shower, she reached for a towel to dry off and then let out a groan. She had completely forgotten to get her trunk from downstairs with her clothes in it. She considered just putting on her clothes from yesterday but then had a brilliant idea. She could get her trunk and not even have to leave the bathroom. It was wonderful being a witch. She wrapped the towel around her and opened the door. “Accio trunk,” said Hermione, pointing her wand out the doorway. Then she saw him.

“It’s about time. You…” He trailed off when he saw her standing there in only a towel. They both just stood there looking at one another stunned. Then before either of them could react, Hermione’s trunk came flying out of nowhere and crashed into Malfoy’s back, slamming him into Hermione causing her to fall backward and him to fall on top of her. They were now in a very compromising position to say the least.

“Get off me!” exclaimed Hermione, thoroughly scandalized.

“Gladly. It’s not like I wanted this to happen,” he said, climbing off of her. “You probably planned all of this. I never should have let you see me with my shirt off yesterday. Now you have ideas.”

“You think I wanted this to happen? You’re delusional,” said Hermione, tightening the towel around her. “How was I supposed to know you would be lurking outside the door?

“I wasn’t lurking. I’ve been waiting for bloody well 45 minutes for you to get out. That mud doesn’t come off you know.”

“For your information, I was trying to get off all of the germs from you sleeping naked in my bed!” yelled Hermione.

“Well, I won’t make that mistake again!”

Hermione looked into the room across the hall and saw the unmade bed that Malfoy had slept in the night before after she had unceremoniously thrown him out of her room. This was just too good. She laughed and said, “You know, you’re sleeping in Ron’s bed now.”


	3. Waging War

Hermione grabbed her trunk, tightened the towel around her and left the bathroom with a very smug expression on her face. That is until the bathroom door slammed shut behind her, hitting her in the ass and causing her to stumble out into the hallway. With as much dignity as she could muster, she walked into her bedroom and slammed the door even harder. She wasn’t about to let him get the last slam. If Malfoy weren’t such a prick, the whole situation would have been kind of funny. Embarrassing but funny. The look on his face when the trunk slammed into him was priceless. 

Hermione threw on some jean shorts and a red fitted t-shirt. Gryffindor red thought Hermione with a smile. She then did a drying spell on her hair and put on some lip-gloss. When she was finished getting ready, she headed down to the kitchen to get some breakfast. As she passed the bathroom, she noticed that Malfoy was already out of the shower. She could hear him slamming things around in Harry and Ron’s bedroom. Suddenly the door banged open and Hermione was caught standing in front of his door with her mouth open staring at Malfoy in shock. He was dripping wet holding onto a towel wrapped casually about his waist with one hand and dragging a trunk with the other. His wet hair hung in his eyes and droplets of water still clung to his body. However, the most shocking thing she noticed was that there was no Dark Mark on his arm. He wasn’t a Death Eater after all. How had she not noticed that last night? Probably because she was so busy watching him unbutton his pants.

“Stare much?”

“I’m not staring. You just surprised me is all. I didn’t expect you to fling the door open like that,” said Hermione coolly.

“Serves you right for spying on me. Why don’t you just leave me alone?” growled Malfoy.

“I wasn’t spying! I was just going downstairs to get some breakfast. In fact, I was hoping not to run into you at all. I think I’ve seen quite enough of you as it is,” replied Hermione, her eyes involuntarily running over his body.

“And I of you,” he said, voluntarily letting his eyes run over her body, causing her to blush. Then he added, “My eyes are still burning from it.”

Hermione scowled at him. “Yeah, well I was feeling sick to my stomach after I saw you undressing last night, but then I vomited and was able to go on with my life. Thankfully, I haven’t had breakfast yet, or I’d have another urge.”

“Having urges now, are we?”

“Yes... no!” said Hermione, quickly catching his meaning.

“I suppose I can’t stop you from fantasizing about me, but just so you know, you don’t stand a chance. I don’t do Mudbloods.”

“Well, I don’t do ferrets. Definitely not into that kind of thing,” muttered Hermione, turning only slightly pink. “Speaking of fantasies, I see you’re moving. Sleeping in Ron’s bed not everything you thought it would be?”

Malfoy scowled and pushed passed her. “You would know, Mudblood. You say you’re not into that kind of thing, but I guess you make an exception for weasels.”

“Ron and I are… friends.” For lack of a better word thought Hermione. 

“Whatever. Like I care anyway,” said Malfoy, heading into the bedroom next door.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

“You going to stop me?”

“No. It’s just that that bedroom belongs to the Weasley twins. There’s really no telling what they left in there. I wouldn’t send my worst enemy in there, which happens to be you. Of course, maybe you should go in there. You’d probably be much more tolerable as a yellow canary. Being turned into a ferret was a vast improvement after all,” said Hermione snidely.

Malfoy spun around angrily and headed into the small bedroom next to Hermione’s that Remus had originally put him in and slammed the door behind him.

“You’re welcome,” Hermione called after him. Then she headed downstairs thinking she had never heard more slammed doors in her entire life. When she finally got to the kitchen, she put the kettle on the stove to make a nice strong cup of tea. She needed it after her run in with Malfoy. In fact, she could have used something even stronger like a big shot of fire whiskey or maybe the whole bottle, but Hermione didn’t drink in the morning or at all for that matter. After she got the tea started, she looked in the cupboard and decided on oatmeal for breakfast. As she was sitting down at the table, Malfoy came in without even acknowledging her existence and made a bowl of cereal. He then went and poured some of her tea into a cup and sat down in the furthest chair from her at the opposite end of the long table.

“That’s my tea, Malfoy.”

“Oh,” said Malfoy taking a sip. “A little on the strong side. Far from the standards I’m used to. It seems as though Mudbloods can’t even do the work of house-elves. To bad that Kreacher is such a nutter, as you obviously suck at the job.”

“I’ll have you know, Malfoy, that house-elves are in no way inferior to you. You should be more respectful of them. They should have the same rights that wizards have. It is wrong for them to be enslaved as they are. They deserve fair pay for the services they provide. Through S.P.E.W., I …”

“Spew this,” said Malfoy giving Hermione a rude hand gesture.

“Aren’t you the clever one? Perhaps if you used your cleverness less stupidly, you would be top of the class. Not!” she retorted, going back to her oatmeal and completely ignoring Malfoy.

“Stupid know-it-all Mudblood,” grumbled Malfoy under his breath, playing with his cereal. “Thinks she’s so smart.” He looked over at her smugly eating her oatmeal wishing he could shove her face in it. The fact that he did always come in second to her was a sore spot with him. His parents were always quite displeased about it to say the least. Just thinking about it made him so mad he felt like punching something or at least throwing something. He jabbed his spoon into his cereal and was about to shove it in his mouth when he thought better of it and flung it across the room at Hermione. It landed in her big bushy hair, and she was so busy with her bitchy know-it-all thoughts that she didn’t even notice. Malfoy started snickering.

Hermione looked up suspiciously. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re so smart. You figure it out.”

“I don’t really care,” said Hermione haughtily. “I was just trying to be civil.”

“Oh, well then I’ll be civil, too. How do you like those Froot Loops?”

“I’m not eating Froot Loops, you idiot. This is called oatmeal,” she said gesturing to her bowl, but just as she said it a Froot Loop fell down to the table from her hair. As she stared at the offending Froot Loop, she felt something wet and sticky hit her in the head. She looked over at Malfoy who was not trying to hide his laughter anymore.

“You have a little something right here,” said Malfoy, laughing and pointing at the middle of his forehead.

Hermione didn’t bother removing the Froot Loop stuck to her forehead. The round purple “O” was like a third eye glaring at Malfoy. “You’re so immature,” she said and then flung some of her oatmeal at Malfoy hitting him in the nose.

“Hey! That wasn’t very smart of you.”

“What do you know about being smart? You’re second in class to a Mudblood,” she sneered, throwing oatmeal in his hair.

“Not the hair!”

“I’m surprised you even noticed. You put so much goop in your hair as it is.”

“Oh yeah. Well, your hair is so bushy that you didn’t even notice when I threw cereal at you.” And with that, he walked over and dumped the whole bowl on her head. “Notice that!”

“Ahhhh!” screamed Hermione. “I’m going to kill you!” she yelled, pointing her wand at his throat. 

“Oh, I don’t think so, Granger. I’m under protection from the Ministry of Magic in exchange for the information I gave. I’m not allowed to use magic and no one else is allowed to use magic on me. You already used magic last night. I’m sure you were given a warning. So, I’m calling your bluff. I highly doubt little miss goody two shoes would risk going to Azkaban over a stupid bowl of cereal. After all, it would totally ruin your perfect Mudblood record.”

“The Ministry giving you protection? That’s rich. The only reason you are even still alive is because of the Order of Phoenix, and we’re only helping you because it was Dumbledore’s final request. Didn’t you know? The man you tried to kill left instructions for you to be taken care of in case you ever decided to get your head out of your ass and stop doing Voldemort’s bidding. You have him to thank, you ungrateful piece of shit. The Ministry is completely powerless at the moment. It’s being run by a clueless bunch of idiots who should be kissing Harry Potter’s ass instead of how they are really treating him. Harry and the Order are the ones really in charge. So, I highly doubt your little story is true at all. And even if it were true, which it isn’t, I wouldn’t have to worry about it anyway, being that this house is unplottable, and the Ministry would never even know if I used magic. So, I can do whatever the hell I want!” shouted Hermione triumphantly.

Malfoy’s expression suddenly turned from one of taunting to one of dawning. Hermione realizing her mistake decided to make a run for it. Remus had probably told Malfoy all of that crap for her protection, so he wouldn’t take her wand and use magic against her. Why did she always have to open her big mouth? She might as well have asked to be hexed. Right about now, she was wishing her preparation for babysitting Malfoy had included training for the 50-meter dash. 

It took Malfoy a minute to realize what she was doing, and then he took off after her. Hermione’s heart felt as though it were about to fly out of her chest. Why on earth she had chosen to run instead of hexing him, she had no idea, but now that she was running, there was no turning back. She flew up the stairs two at a time and was just about at her bedroom door when Malfoy tackled her from behind. She fell down hard on her stomach with Malfoy landing on top of her. He had her pinned down so she couldn’t use her wand. She just lay there taking in deep gulps of air. She couldn’t believe this could be happening to her. How could Hermione Granger have been so stupid?

Malfoy grabbed her wand and started to twirl it quite annoyingly between his fingers, still sitting on top of her so she couldn’t move. “Who’s the smart one now, Granger?”

“Not you. For your information, a wand never works as well for another wizard,” replied Hermione rather snootily.

Malfoy leaned down and whispered in her ear, “It would work well enough.”

Hermione wasn’t sure if it were his words or his close proximity that sent a shiver down her spine. “Get off me.”

“No need to get so nervous, Granger. I’m not going to use it. I’m going to hide it. That way we’ll be on a level playing field,” he said as he climbed off of her for the second time that day.

“Oh, we’ll never be on a level playing field. I lived as a Muggle for 10 years before I found out I was a witch. I know loads more than you. You don’t stand a chance.” 

“Bring it.” And with that he walked away.

Hermione was fuming. How dare he take her wand! It was time for reinforcements. Two very wicked reinforcements. Thank God the Order had left her an owl. With a determined look on her face, Hermione attached a message to the brown barn owl’s leg and sent it off to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. This was war.

Hermione didn’t see Malfoy for the rest of the day, which was lucky because instead of going to the study to look up information about Horcruxes like she had planned to do that day, she was actually busy plotting her revenge. Hermione knew Malfoy was very particular about his hair from what Dobby had told her and from her own personal experience with the oatmeal, so she had decided on an all out hair assault. And who better to help her than the Weasley twins? She was very excited when a suspicious looking purple package finally arrived by owl later that day. Hermione opened the letter attached to the package first.

_Dearest Hermione,_

_We were pleasantly surprised to hear from you and even more surprised by your request, as you had led us to believe you were above such petty things and in no way approved of our innocent (and not so innocent) little jokes. We’re so happy you have finally seen the light or rather dark as the case may be. We are very happy to aid in your corruption as well as in your diabolical plan for revenge on your unsuspecting enemy._

_We are most interested in knowing who would insight such mischievous behavior in an upstanding (uptight) witch such as yourself. We vote for Draco Malfoy but perhaps that is just wishful thinking. We would dearly love our fine line of products used on him. We hope of course that it is not our dear brother Ron, but if it is we have even more ideas for you and would give you a very good deal on a spider engorging kit. He hates spiders, you know._

_Anyway, we hope you find our products to your satisfaction and to your enemy’s dissatisfaction. We are sure they will provide you with much amusement, as well as humiliation and torture for your intended victim. We would love to see embarrassing pictures of either Malfoy or Ron. Please let us know if we can be of any further assistance. We will of course keep our thinking caps on for more ideas of mischief and mayhem._

_Doubley Troubley Yours,_

_Fred and George Weasley_  
_Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes_

_P.S. This newfound naughtiness of yours is a real turn on. Let us know the next time you are in Diagon Alley. Wink, wink._

Hermione snorted at that last part. She was feeling very naughty indeed. Malfoy deserved what he was going to get, and he wouldn’t even see it coming. She ripped open the box and found just what she was looking for. With an evil grin on her face, she removed a very interesting jar labeled Catastrophic Cowlick Crème. She crept across the hall to the bathroom and locked herself in. Then she began rummaging through Malfoy’s toiletries. God, he was such a girl. When she finally found his hair gel, she unscrewed the lid and dumped the contents into the rubbish bin. Very carefully, she replaced it with the twins' product. Malfoy was in for one mind blowing makeover.

The next morning, Hermione purposely slept in and let Malfoy have the bathroom first. When she heard the water running, she grabbed her stuff and headed out to the hallway to wait outside the bathroom door. She didn’t want to miss the big show. He took forever. When he came out he was fully dressed and his hair was completely normal. She couldn’t hide her disappointment. What had went wrong?

“Disappointed you didn’t catch me naked?”

“No, contrary to what you think not everyone wants to see you without your clothes on. It’s disgusting,” said Hermione, wrinkling her nose.

“You’re such a prude.”

“Just because I don’t want to see your sorry ass naked? Whatever, Malfoy.”

“Oh, so you’re not a prude. One of those wild librarian types, are you? So, who’s name are you screaming when your nose isn’t buried in a book, Potter or Weasel?”

“Go to hell, Malfoy,” said Hermione and just as the words escaped her mouth something incredible happened. Malfoy’s impeccably gelled hair sprung up to form two devil horns on either side of his head. They matched the devilish grin on his face perfectly. Hermione grinned back at him. “Feeling a little devilish, are we?”

“You have no idea.” Malfoy smirked.

“No, you have no idea.” Hermione laughed.


	4. Pun Party

“I’d love to stay and chat with you, that is if you weren’t such a boring know-it-all Mudblood, but I have things to do, people to torture.” 

“I’d stay away from torturing anyone, if I were you. You might burn in hell for it.”

“I’m not worried. You’re the one that’s going to go through hell.” Malfoy smirked.

“Believe me, I already am in hell.”

He scowled at her and then purposely knocked into her on his way out the door. She supposed that he meant it to be intimidating but as he past her, she burst out laughing. “There’s no need for you to walk out of here with your tail between you legs.”

“A Malfoy would never do that.”

“Oh, yeah? Because you've got a little something right here,” she said, pointing at her butt. Malfoy looked down at his backside to find himself sporting a brand new forked devil’s tail. “And a little something right here,” she choked out through her laughter, pointing both fingers at the top of her head. Malfoy rushed to the bathroom mirror and stared at his hair in horror. “What’s the matter, Malfoy?” she asked, faking concern. “Devil got your tongue?”

Malfoy turned on her and shoved her up against the wall. “What did you do to me?”

“Get your hands off me. I just did what you told me to do. I brought it.”

Malfoy dropped his hands from her and turned to pick up the jar of Catastrophic Cowlick Crème disguised as his hair gel. “Not bad, Granger,” he said opening the jar and taking out a big scoop of hair gel with his hand. “Although I think you’re the one in need of a new hairdo,” he said as he squashed the gel on top of her head and then smeared it in rather roughly.

“Get out!” shouted Hermione, pushing him out the door. She slammed the door on him before her hair could turn into anything bizarre and jumped in the shower fully dressed. She grabbed her favorite vanilla scented shampoo and started scrubbing. Wash, rinse and repeat. Wash, rinse and repeat. Wash, rinse and repeat. When Hermione finally got out of the shower, she stood in front of the mirror and braced herself for the worst. She wiped away the steam from the mirror and saw her hair hanging down in wet brown ringlets, just as it normally did after a shower. She waited for a while just staring at herself, but nothing happened. Finally, she breathed a sigh of relief. She had outsmarted him. She dried herself off, got dressed in some dry clothes and then went downstairs to gloat.

When she got downstairs, she was greeted with a horrible smell. It got even worse the closer she got to the kitchen. It smelled like… “skunk,” said Hermione as she peered through the doorway. Malfoy’s hair was now jet black except for a platinum blond stripe down the middle. She burst out laughing again. She wished she had brought a camera with her. The Weasley twins would be so proud. Malfoy just scowled at her over his breakfast. He wasn’t too happy her hair looked normal, well normal for her anyway.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy. It must really stink being you.”

“Ha ha, you’re so funny. Laugh while you can Mudblood because I’m going to get my revenge.”

Hermione walked over to the refrigerator and looked inside. “Hmm,” she thought out loud. “For some reason, I feel like having tomato juice for breakfast.” She poured herself a glass and walked to the door saying to Malfoy as she left, “Smell you later.” 

Her little cousin had said that to her once and she had thought it quite childish and immature at the time, but now it was just funny. She went into the study and grabbed a book off the shelf. She had just settled down in a comfy armchair to read her book when Malfoy barged in. “What are you doing here? If you hadn’t noticed, I was trying to get away from you because in addition to your attitude which normally stinks, you stink. Really bad.”

“It’s all your fault. If I have to smell it, you have to smell it.”

“Why don’t you go play in traffic? That smell is really giving me a headache,” said Hermione, glaring at Malfoy. And just as she said that, she felt a little ping. Then Malfoy burst out laughing.

“This is just a shot in the dark, but I’d say it’s not the smell giving you a headache,” replied Malfoy, thoroughly amused.

Hermione reluctantly put her hands up to her head and felt her hair contorted into the shape of an arrow through her head. She silently groaned and wondered what else was coming.

“Guess your target was a little off this morning?”

“At least I don’t stink!”

“You smell like a Mudblood to me.”

“Prick.” Ping. An arrow shaped strand of hair shot out of Hermione’s head and hit Malfoy in the arm.

“Ow!”

“Asshole.” Ping. Another arrow shot out and hit him in his ass. Hermione laughed somewhat evilly. “Jerk, bastard, son of a bitch! Ping, ping, ping! Malfoy decided to make a run for it but as he was halfway out the door, he stopped and started skipping. No, it was more like prancing. Malfoy was prancing. And since Malfoys don’t prance, he stopped again and turned around and looked nervously at Hermione. Hermione’s frown turned right side up when she saw him and she said, “Aww, don’t you look pretty.”

Malfoy reached up and felt his hair twisted into a unicorn horn. Shit! This was completely humiliating, but at least he didn’t stink anymore. And it seemed as though Hermione wasn’t going to shoot any more of those arrows. They really hurt. 

As if Hermione could read his thoughts she said, “Don’t look so worried. I’m not going to shoot any more arrows at you unless you do something to make me really mad. Frankly, I’m out of insults, and I’m afraid I am going to go bald on one side. What do you say we call a truce? All those in favor say Aye, all those opposed, say neigh! Get it? Neigh!”

“Screw you.”

“You’re just mad because you suck at puns. I am the queen of puns.” Ping. Shit! Hermione’s hair wove into a braided crown.

“More like a royal pain in the ass,” Malfoy retorted. A queen, as if. Why was he getting all of the sucky hairdos?

“Did I mention your horn is all pink and sparkly?” asked Hermione, tilting her head to one side and batting her eyelashes at him. Hermione wasn’t quite sure why she did that.

Malfoy tried walking away from her, but it turned into prancing again, so he stopped. Hermione was acting weird, and so he was eyeing her cautiously. 

And then all of a sudden, Hermione started humming and dancing around the room. Birds flew in from the window and started flying around her head. Oh, my God. She was acting like a cartoon princess, and she felt this incredibly strong urge to kiss her prince. No! Malfoy was certainly not her Prince Charming. He was a prick and a unicorn.

“Malfoy, you better make a run for it,” said Hermione, coming closer to him.

“No. You just want to see me prance.”

“I’m serious. Run.”

“Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“Because I am about to kiss you.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened, and then he turned and galloped away with Hermione running after him in slow motion with her arms out in the air. Malfoy slowed down to a trot when he looked over his shoulder and saw what she was doing. He had had enough of this. He went into his room and slammed the door. Hermione stood outside his door pondering what she should do. Then she felt something hit her on the head. She reached her hand up and touched something wet. Great. Bird poop. After she shooed the birds away, she went into her room and slammed the door shut. 

Around lunchtime, they both came out of their rooms at the same time. Malfoy looked at Hermione, and she looked at him. His hair was sticking straight up in the air like he had been electrocuted. “Don’t look so shocked Malfoy. It’s just a beehive.” Hermione’s hair was piled up high on her head in a 60’s style hairdo and bees were flying around her. This was definitely not her favorite hairstyle of the day as she had already gotten stung a couple of times.

Malfoy glared at her thinking about what she had said earlier. “I don’t suck at puns.”

“Bee-lieve me, honey, you do.”

“Buzz off.”

Hermione smiled, but it quickly disappeared when she felt that oh so familiar ping. She wasn’t sure what had happened to her but her nose felt all twitchy.

“Don’t worry you’re just having a hare-raising experience.”

“You should talk.”

No, I mean hare as in...”

“I know what you mean,” snapped Hermione. “I know what a hare is. I’m a God damn bunny rabbit.” This was getting old fast. She didn’t know if she could take many more of these hair don’ts. It was really only funny when it was happening to Malfoy.

Malfoy grudgingly admitted to himself that she looked kind of cute acting all mad with her hair up in bunny ears. “Well, hop to it then. I’m starving.” He gave her cottontail a squeeze and went down the steps toward the kitchen singing, “Here comes Granger cotton tail, hopping down the bunny trail…” 

Hermione grudgingly hopped down the stairs after him. When she got to the kitchen, she saw Malfoy making himself a sandwich, still humming the bunny tune. She decided to heat up a bowl of soup and tried to ignore him. He was feeling pretty good about things right now because Hermione had finally gotten a suckier hairdo than him. Sure his hair was sticking out all over, but he probably thought he looked rather cool that way. After all, some guys wore their hair like that all of the time. They were both busy preparing their separate lunches when Hermione got an idea. She reached out and touched him with her metal spoon. Zap! Malfoy nearly jumped out of his skin. Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “Just curious.”

“Stop touching me, you filthy Mudblood!” shouted Malfoy.

“Stop calling me a Mudblood,” she said poking him with her spoon to emphasize each word. Zap! Zap! Zap! Zap! Zap!

“Ahhh! Okay fine,” he said angrily through gritted teeth, his hair beginning to smoke.

“Gee, you look kind of mad. There’s smoke coming out of your ears, literally.”

“Shut up you stupid…” yelled Malfoy but then he paused, eyeing Hermione’s spoon warily. It hurt way worse than those stupid arrows.

“You were saying something, Malfoy?” she asked, waving the spoon in his face.

Ping! Ha! “I said shut up, you stupid Mudblood!”

Hermione did shut up just then. She simply stared at him not saying one word. What had happened to his hair this time? He let out a nervous giggle. His eyes grew wide and he clapped his hand over his mouth. Did he just giggle? Horrified, he reached up and felt two little girl’s pigtails on top of his head. With ribbons.

Hermione couldn’t help herself. “Like father, like son,” she said, thinking of Lucius Malfoy’s long ponytail. “Or should I say daughter?”

“That’s it! I’ve had enough of you. You’re dead.”

Hermione took one look at his face and ran for it. He chased after her, and she ran into the study laughing. “You run like a girl!” She stopped behind a chair to catch her breath and try to stop laughing. They circled around the chair taunting each other. Then ping! Malfoy burst out into a fit of girlish giggles. “Why don’t you take your big ass shoes and run off and join the circus, you freak!” 

Hermione now had very colorful clown hair, big shoes and a red clown nose. She hated clowns. “Why don’t you make me, you pansy ass little girl,” she sneered and then she squirted him in the face with water from the giant plastic flower on her shirt.

Thoroughly pissed off by that, Malfoy reached over and squeezed her nose really hard. Honk! Honk! She then retaliated by stepping on his foot with one of her big clown shoes. He started crying little girl tears, and she was about to say, “Don’t be such a sissy,” when she heard someone clearing their throat behind her. She slowly turned around and gasped, “Professor Lupin!”

Remus looked back and forth between the two of them incredulously. Then his eyes finally settled on Hermione. She felt so ashamed, she could hardly look at him. Would he kick her out of the Order after only her second day on the job? She could kill Malfoy for making her look so stupid. Her only consolation was that he looked really stupid too. 

Remus shook his head and then he said sternly, “Hermione, I expected you to take this job seriously and here you are clowning around.” Then he burst out laughing.


	5. Remus' Response

Hermione stared at Remus Lupin in disbelief. He was actually laughing and at her, no less. This whole thing was so not funny. Well, the part having to do with Malfoy, maybe. He deserved to be laughed at. He was a prat. Him and his stupid soft silky hair. Looking around, she noticed that Malfoy had quietly snuck out of the room. Coward. Probably didn’t like Remus seeing his wussy ass self. She smirked to herself and tapped her big clown shoe as she waited patiently for Remus to stop laughing. This was so humiliating.

I’m sorry,” began Remus, trying to control himself. “I just wasn’t expecting this,” he said gesturing to her ridiculous attire. “A murder scene, maybe, but this? Didn’t see it coming.”

Hermione looked down at her big clown shoes in embarrassment. “I’m the one who should be sorry, Remus. You are absolutely right. I should be taking this assignment more seriously. I don’t know what came over me. Malfoy just makes me so mad; I get a little crazy.”

Remus pointed his wand at the door and did a silencing charm to ensure their privacy. “Actually, the reason I came here is to find out how things were going with Malfoy. I see it’s been a real circus around here.”

“Yes, you could definitely say that, but please, I don’t think I can handle anymore puns today.” Ping! “Oh no! I’m almost afraid to ask. Please tell me that it doesn’t involve anything that stings or poops.”

“Don’t worry.” Remus laughed. “You’re back to normal. Whatever it was must have worn off. A Weasley product, I expect?”

“Yes,” Hermione replied sheepishly. “Catastrophic Cowlick Crème, and I’m never using it again. Ever.”

“I bet Malfoy loved that,” said Remus, smiling.

Hermione grinned, despite herself. “You have no idea. If he could have used an unforgivable on me, he would have. I’ve never seen anyone as obsessed with his hair as he is. Unfortunately, my brilliant plan had a slight flaw, in that I ended up getting a taste of my own medicine. And believe me, it didn’t taste very good. Although, I do think Malfoy got the worst of it.”

“I don’t doubt that,” replied Remus with a laugh. “So, other than this incident, have things been going alright? You’re not ready to throw in the towel yet, are you?”

“Of course not! It’s been challenging, to say the least, but I can handle Malfoy.” Inwardly, she was hoping he didn’t notice her missing wand. Damn Malfoy. Wand stealing wanker. “However, I completely understand if you want to find someone else for this assignment. I can’t imagine what you must have thought when you walked in on us being so, well, childish. I am truly mortified by my actions today. Despite outside appearances, I do take this job very seriously. I promise that if you give me a second chance, I’ll do better. I really want to prove myself to the Order.”

“On the contrary,” said Remus, “I think you have been doing a marvelous job. I know I didn’t really go into details about this assignment and what was expected of you, but I was interested in seeing how you would handle the situation on your own. And frankly, although I hadn’t expected it to take quite this kind of turn, I couldn’t be happier with your progress so far.”

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. Was he kidding? “I can’t even pretend to understand what you are talking about, Remus. And while I hate to contradict you while you are being so complimentary of me, it’s quite obvious that this has been a complete and utter disaster. Malfoy and I have done nothing but fight since I got here. And I can’t even say that I’ve won all of the battles. In fact, I’m quite certain; I’ve lost more than a few.”

‘It doesn’t matter if you win every battle or not. It’s winning the war that counts, and I think Mr. Malfoy could be a great asset in helping us win the war against Voldemort.”

“Malfoy? What could he possibly do to help?” asked Hermione somewhat irritably. 

“Well, he’s been on the other side. He could have very valuable information. His father is in Voldemort’s inner circle, after all, and there’s no telling what he has overheard or been privy to as a Death Eater himself.”

“Malfoy’s not a Death Eater. It turns out, he’s just a prat, after all.”

“He’s not a Death Eater? How on earth do you know that?” asked Remus, obviously surprised by the information.

Hermione blushed, thinking of Malfoy with his shirt off. “I’ve seen his arm. He doesn’t have the Dark Mark.”

Remus raised his eyebrows slightly at the sight of her blush but thankfully didn’t inquire any further. “Hmm. That is most interesting. I must say, I am quite impressed with you, Hermione. You are doing an excellent job so far.”

“I still don’t understand. I feel like an absolute failure. Nothing has turned out how I planned.”

“I was here with Mr. Malfoy for a whole month, and I don’t think he said more than two words to me. I had no idea he wasn’t a Death Eater. One of the reasons I decided to pass off this assignment to someone else, namely you, was that I thought he might be more forthcoming with someone his own age. However, it truly astounds me that he has come so far, so fast. You have only been here two days; and you’ve already found out very valuable information. I knew you were the right one for the job. He feels comfortable with you. You can bring him over to our side; I know it.”

“I don’t know, Remus,” said Hermione uncertainly. “Malfoy and I don’t get on very well, and that’s an understatement. He absolutely hates me.”

“I don’t think that he hates you. I was watching you two for a while before I let my presence be known; and I’m quite sure he was thoroughly enjoying himself. I was nothing but nice to Mr. Malfoy during our entire time together and got absolutely nowhere with him. He doesn’t seem to respond to nice; but he does respond to you. Whatever you’re doing is working. Keep up your little war with him. It seems to amuse him. But keep an eye on him. He’s not to be trusted yet. He needs to prove himself first.”

“Oh, I definitely don’t trust him,” reassured Hermione. “I’m still not convinced he’s not evil. And as far as our little war is concerned, I don’t think I could stop it if I wanted to. We are both rather competitive, it seems.”

Remus laughed outright, “Now that’s an understatement!”

“So, basically my first official job as an Order member is to fight with Malfoy? I have permission to torment him and make his life miserable?” she asked with a malicious glint in her eye.

“So to speak,” hedged Remus. “Although, I wouldn’t phrase it that way, or even admit to it, if anyone asks me. You and Malfoy have some sort of weird connection, that I must admit, I don’t fully understand. Let’s take advantage of it and see what kind of information you can find out. Send a Patronus, if you find out anything useful. And thanks for the laugh. I haven’t laughed so hard since seventh year when James and Sirius gave Snape’s underpants a case of the hiccups in Slughorn’s class. If you could have seen his face, you’d know what I mean. First and only time he ever failed a potion's assignment. Seems he was a little distracted.”

Hermione smiled. She wasn’t sure how hiccupping underpants could be very funny, but perhaps she would try it out on Malfoy and find out. It was her job, after all, to cause him the utmost humiliation. Wasn’t that what Remus said or something like it anyway? Maybe there were some helpful books in the study. She would be sure to check later. They would probably be Dark Arts books, but she wasn’t all that fussed about it to be honest. Malfoy had it coming. “Happy I could entertain you, Remus, even if it was at my expense. I’ll let you know if I find out anything. We are going to win this war with or without Malfoy. I know it. And as far as my war with Malfoy is concerned, I’m going to win that, too.”

“I have a feeling you might just do that.”

After Remus left, Hermione went back to the kitchen to reheat her soup. She was starving and wanted nothing more than to eat her lunch in peace. It had been a very exhausting day so far. Unfortunately, she was sorry to find Malfoy seated at the table finishing his lunch. His hair was, of course, annoyingly perfect again. Asshole. 

He sneered at her. “I see your hair still looks ridiculous.”

“I see you’re still an obnoxious self absorbed git,” she automatically replied.

“But with nice hair.”

“Whatever. Why don’t you go make out with your mirror or better yet drown yourself in hair gel,” she said contemptuously.

“As if I would even touch my hair gel now that you contaminated it with your filthy hands. You’re just jealous because no one in their right mind would want to make out with you. I bet Weasel doesn’t even want to kiss your ugly Mudblood face. Ooh, did I strike a nerve?” taunted Malfoy.

Hermione would never admit it, but he certainly did strike a nerve. Ron had definitely not kissed her. He was too busy sucking face with Lav Lav the previous year. Why he had enough courage to ask out Lavender Brown and not her, she had no idea. Maybe, he didn’t really like her, after all. However, Hermione didn’t need Malfoy to tell her that. “Shut up, Malfoy.” 

“What did the werewolf want?”

Hermione scowled at him. “His name is Remus Lupin, and he was checking up on you, of course. I assured him; you were still the same prick you always were.”

Malfoy glowered at her. “I’m surprised you’re even still here. It must have been obvious, even to him, that you were in way over your head. He must be kicking himself for trusting a silly school girl to handle the job.”

Hermione feigned indifference and shrugged. “It’s not like it’s an important job or anything. It’s just watching you.”

“I bet he fired your ass.”

“You wish, ferret.”

“On every star in the sky. I can’t stand the sight of you. You and your big, bushy mud colored hair. I’d rather have just about anyone here than you.”

“Well, for your sake, you better hope he didn’t fire me. Because if it’s not me watching you, it will just be some other Order member you don’t like, probably a Weasley. And I can guarantee, no matter who it is, no one else is going to put up with the crap I do.” 

Hermione grabbed the saltshaker on the table and angrily shook some on her soup. Just as she did it, the lid fell off the shaker and into her soup with a plop, along with all of the salt from the container. So much for lunch. She heard Malfoy snickering from across the table. Hermione stared at him with daggers in her eyes. “Is that the best you’ve got? You’re dead.”


	6. Foe Fan

Malfoy started laughing. “It’s not the best I’ve got, but it’s still pretty good. That joke is a classic.”

“Classically stupid. What are you, eight? You are the most immature boy I have ever met, and that’s saying something,” ranted Hermione, dumping out her ruined soup and pouring herself a cup of tea instead. Adding a spoonful of sugar, she then proceeded to stir her tea rather angrily, sloshing a bit of it on the table. Looking at Malfoy menacingly, she pointed her spoon at him as if it were really a knife. “I’m going to make your life miserable.” Then she took a big gulp of tea and immediately started choking on it. Damn lame ass salt pranks. How did she not see that coming?

Malfoy snickered in what Hermione thought of as a very juvenile fashion. “Well, here’s to making each others lives miserable,” said Malfoy with a wink, raising his glass in a toast.

Hermione glared at him but then put a forced smile on her face and clinked glasses with him. “Cheers, Malfoy. Down the hatch.” She then dumped her salty hot tea right in his lap and stomped out of the room. She could hear him yelling something about not ruining it for all of the other girls. Hermione rolled her eyes. He was so vain. She went to her room and plopped down on her bed, trying to come up with some genius way of destroying his self-confidence and making him feel insecure like every other teenager in the world.

She already knew all sorts of things about Malfoy. He would be surprised to find out how much she really did know. She knew all kinds of intimate details about his life; like what his childhood was like, what he did on school breaks, what kind of foods he liked and didn’t like, what his favorite color was, why he was scared of the dark, what he did when he hung out with his friends, what his biggest secret was (which she had found surprising, indeed) and even how far he had gone with Pansy. It made her squirm, just a little bit, thinking about how she had acquired some of this information as it involved Crabbe and Goyle and an extremely bizarre night at the Three Broomsticks. However, she took her research very seriously. Besides, if she didn't think about it, it was almost as though it never happened. Yeah right.

Anyway, she had found out loads of information. She had found out that Malfoy was intensely jealous of Harry Potter, even though he would never admit it to anyone. Feelings of inferiority plagued him whenever Harry was around. He hated that Harry got so much attention all because of what he thought of as a stupid scar. He hated that everyone thought of Harry as a hero and that Harry would probably end up saving the world. He hated that Harry had been Dumbledore’s favorite. He hated that Harry’s friends were willing to die for him. He hated Harry’s Gryffindor bravery and dumb luck. And perhaps most of all, he hated that Harry always caught the Snitch. 

Harry was the one thing, or rather person, that made Malfoy feel insecure. Harry was the answer that Hermione was looking for. He would make Malfoy absolutely miserable. If only she could get Harry to come to Grimmauld Place. She would win this stupid war that she was having with Malfoy. Unfortunately, he was stuck at the Dursley’s for the summer, and there was no getting around that. She did want to win the war against Voldemort, as well. There must be something she could do though. Then it came to her like a flash of lightening or rather a lightening shaped scar. 

Hermione quickly leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed the purple box out from underneath it. She started rummaging through it until she found what she was looking for. The perfect revenge. She grinned evilly. 

The next morning, Hermione got up early in order to get into the bathroom before Malfoy. She had contemplated her evil plan all night long and had come up with, what she thought was, a halfway decent plan of attack. If she was brave enough to go through with it, that is. It wasn’t going to be very easy though, as this particular Weasley product, unlike the vast majority of their products, wasn’t meant to be used on unsuspecting victims. The instructions specifically required the user to firmly dab the potion on their face, leave it there for at least one minute and then rinse it off with ice-cold water until they felt a tingling sensation. The transformation took effect in exactly twenty minutes. 

Hermione had almost given up on the whole idea as Malfoy would more than likely drown if she held his head in a bucket of ice water that long and then the joke wouldn’t be nearly as funny. However, Hermione was quite determined, and so she came up with this crazy plan that probably wasn’t even going to work and would more than likely end up humiliating her, but if it did work, it would be so worth it. Malfoy would be furious.

Hermione took quite a while in the shower, partly because she didn’t mind ticking Malfoy off and partly because she was extremely nervous about pulling this prank off. Her Gryffindor courage seemed to be somewhat lacking at the moment. The whole plan revolved around male teenage hormones and the fact that they probably didn’t care a fig about blood status. If she was wrong about this, she was in trouble, the deep kind. She wished this really good bit of revenge didn’t involve so much risk and embarrassment on her part. Malfoy was most likely going to be on the look out for retaliation. If she wanted this to work, she was just going to have to pull out all the stops and go for it. And she was going to have to be very sneaky. Slytherin sneaky.

Malfoy pounded on the door. “Hurry up, Granger. Take your mud bath on your own time.”

Hermione gritted her teeth. Her resolve now stronger than ever to make her plan work, at all costs. She stepped out of the shower. Did not bother to dry off. Wrapped the towel around her. Crossed her fingers. Dipped them into the potion and opened the door, dripping wet.

“It’s about time. Blimey, Granger. What are you trying to do, seduce me?” he asked, looking her up and down, then swallowing fearfully.

Hermione slowly stepped a little closer to him, biting her lip nervously as she did so. She looked down at his lips. It was now or never. She told herself to go for it.

Malfoy’s eyes widened in shock. Was she going to kiss him? He wasn’t sure if he should make a run for it or take it like a man and then run like hell. Before he could decide, however, Hermione leaned in closer, licked her lips and then slapped him hard across the face. As if she would really kiss him!

“What the hell was that for?” yelled Malfoy, a wet red hand print plastered across his cheek.

Hermione pretended to be outraged. “I wouldn’t seduce you even if you looked like Harry Potter.”

“If you ever touch me with your filthy hands again, I’ll… Wait a minute. You have a thing for Potter?”

Hermione inwardly smirked. Malfoy was performing right on cue. “What girl at Hogwarts doesn’t? Everyone knows that all the girls want to be with him and that all the boys just want to be him.”

“Stupid Gryffindors, maybe,” said Malfoy, his face turning red.

“Scum of the earth Slytherins, as well. Harry told me Pansy tried to get with him 5th year. He has better taste, of course. And I bet even you wish you were Harry Potter... sometimes.”

“The Boy Who Lived to be a pain in my ass? Never,” insisted Malfoy lividly. “I’d kill myself if I were Potter.”

“Promise?” asked Hermione sweetly. She then tried to squeeze through the doorway with him still in it. And just as her body “accidentally” brushed up against his, she stopped and looked up into his face with an expression he couldn’t quite read and said, “I might just hold you to that, you know.” Then she sauntered (yes, Hermione Granger sauntered) to her room. She gave one last look at Malfoy and then her towel “accidentally” slipped just a bit. She pretended to be embarrassed which wasn’t too difficult since she really was embarrassed and went into her room closing the door behind her. She leaned against the door, counted to three and then heard the shower turn on. Hermione smiled. With any luck, Malfoy was taking a cold shower right about now.

Hermione quickly got dressed and nearly ran to the kitchen. She was hoping to see Malfoy’s transformation take place with her very own eyes. He always came down for breakfast right after his shower. He wasn’t downstairs yet, so she made herself a cup of tea, remembering to refill the sugar bowl first and then sat down to wait. This was going to be too much fun. She didn’t know how Fred and George came up with all this stuff. They really were quite amazing. It was a shame they used their powers for evil though. Leave it to them to find a way to make money off of their brother’s best friend’s unfortunate circumstances. A Harry Potter Fan Club Kit, for goodness sake. Who else but the Weasley twins would think of such a thing. And they were probably going to make a fortune on it. Harry was going to be furious when he found out.

Malfoy walked in, eyeing Hermione suspiciously. “What are you up to? You’re acting very strange this morning.”

“Does it scare you?” she asked, smirking a bit.

“No,” scoffed Malfoy. “More like disgusts me.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll soon find out how disgusted you really were.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s just say, I will know for a fact whether or not you just took a cold shower.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened slightly at that comment, but that wasn’t what made Hermione positive that Malfoy wasn’t as disgusted as he was trying to lead her to believe. The dead giveaway was the black circles being drawn around his eyes, forming a spectacular pair of Harry Potter spectacles. His white blond hair then turned jet black and a big lightening bolt “scar” popped up on the middle of his forehead. It looked like one of those silly tattoos you get out of a gum ball machine. And on his chest was a big gold button with red writing that said, “Harry Potter Fan Club Member.” This was quite possibly the funniest thing she had ever seen, and she wasn’t sure if it was at Malfoy’s expense or Harry’s or maybe both. Fred and George had really outdone themselves this time.

“What are you staring at, Mudblood?”

“Your dead body.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Malfoy scowling.

“I told you yesterday, you were dead. You thought that stupid salt joke was so funny. Wait until you see your face. You are going to want to kill yourself. And whether it’s because you look exactly like a ridiculous, fanatical version of your worst foe or because of the knowledge that a Mudblood is responsible for you having to take a cold shower. It just doesn’t really matter. Because I win.”


	7. Bad Bet

What was that stupid witch going on about? As if she could ever win against him. She better not have messed with his hair again. He ran his fingers through his hair causing Hermione to giggle. It was such a Harry signature move. As could be expected, Malfoy did not like what he felt when he ran his fingers through his hair. It felt... not perfect. He looked down to see if anything else was different about him and then he caught sight of the Harry Potter Fan Club Member button. Shit! She did win.

He rushed out to the front entry to look at himself in the mirror. What he saw just about killed him. His beautiful platinum blond hair was now jet black and messy. He had stupid round black glasses drawn on his face. And worst of all, his face was disfigured with a lightening bolt “scar” smack in the middle of his forehead that did not come off no matter how hard he rubbed. Oh. My. God. He was Harry frigging Potter. 

Shit! Shit! Shit! How did this happen? When did she… The bathroom incident! Ha! He knew she wasn’t alluring. She wasn’t sexy, at all. She was just some stupid Mudblood bitch who had just gotten him with perhaps the best revenge ever. He was starting to panic. He couldn’t let her win. Getting bested by a Mudblood was not an option. He was Draco Malfoy. He was the Slytherin Prince. And now he looked like Harry bloody Potter, that scar headed, Dumbledore ass kissing, Weasel cavorting, Granger liking, Snitch stealing bastard. 

There was only one thing to do. Catch her completely off guard. “Do you want to shag?”

“What!” gasped Hermione. Where did that come from? This was so not going as planned.

Malfoy put on his best smirk. “I suppose you set up this little scheme so you could have a go at your little boy toy wonder. I’ll have to warn you though, I’m a man.”

“Whatever,” huffed Hermione, not liking where this was going. At all. “I do not want to shag Harry, and I most certainly do not want to shag you. Man or not. And I’m thinking not.”

“Oh, come on, Granger. You know you want to shag the great Harry Potter. All the girls do. That’s what you said this morning, anyway.”

“I was just saying that to set you up. It was a joke. Although the part about Pansy trying to hook up with Harry was true. The rest of it was just to mess with you.”

“You like to mess around… Hermione?” asked Malfoy, a sly smile forming on his lips.

Now how was she supposed to respond to that? Hermione was getting more furious by the minute. He was totally ruining her fun. He was supposed to be angry. He was supposed to curse and call her a Mudblood. He was supposed to acknowledge her perfect prank. She had gotten him. She had won. And all he could do was talk about sex. He was such a sneaky Slytherin bastard. “Shut up, Malfoy.” Ooh, she was so clever.

“I’m not Malfoy. Can’t you see I’m Harry frigging Potter, Boy Wonder, savior of the Wizarding World?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and walked into the study. This just proved that looks didn’t really matter. It’s definitely what’s on the inside that counts. While Malfoy looked very much like her best friend, at the moment, he was still the same old prick he always was. And that was never going to change. Hermione grabbed a book off of the shelf. She decided it was finally time to start her research on Horcruxes. It was better than putting up with Malfoy’s crap anyway. She curled up on the couch and started to read.

Malfoy plopped down on the couch next to her. “Whatcha reading, Hermione? Can I copy your notes from all of our classes?” asked Malfoy in what he thought was a very good Harry Potter impersonation. “I was too busy saving the world to take any. And can Ron copy, too? He was too busy following me around like a puppy dog instead of acting like the weasel he is.”

“Go away. And you sound like a dork, by the way.”

“Yeah, well I look like a dork,” snapped Malfoy.

“Now, Harry,” said Hermione, playing along with his little charade. “You’re much better looking than some of the boys at school.”

“Weasel, I mean Ron, doesn’t count.”

“I was talking about Malfoy. You are much better looking than that ferret. Slytherin Prince my ass.”

Malfoy smacked her on the shoulder. 

“Ow,” yelped Hermione. “What was that for?”

“Sorry, Hermione. There was a fly on your shoulder. I felt compelled to save you from it. I just can’t help this whole hero thing, I have going on,” replied Malfoy with a mock apology.

“Right back at you, Harry,” said Hermione, smacking him in the forehead.

Malfoy scowled at her.

“Gee, Harry. You kind of look like Malfoy with that nasty look on your face. Want to say bad things about him? That always cheers you up. I’ll start. Malfoy is a stupid, ferret face prick who couldn’t catch a Snitch if it flew up his robes and lodged itself in his...”

“Want to snog?” interrupted Malfoy.

“No!”

“Play footsy?”

“No!”

“Tickle fight?”

“No, no and no!”

“Geez, Granger. Don’t you do anything besides save the world?”

“I do homework,” she answered indignantly.

Malfoy snorted. “I mean anything fun.”

“I hang out with my friends.”

“And what do you do with your friends?” asked Malfoy, obviously trying to make some kind of point.

“Well, we uh…” For the life of her, Hermione couldn’t come up with anything. She had zilch, zero, nada. Harry and Ron played Wizard chess and Quidditch together, but she didn’t participate in that. What did she do with her friends? “We do homework and save the world,” Hermione admitted rather grudgingly. 

Malfoy laughed. “I thought so. You are so predictable.”

“Oh, and you’re not?”

“Of course not. You don’t know anything about me. I’m a mystery.”

Hermione snorted. “You want to make a bet on that mystery boy?”

“That’s mystery man to you.” Malfoy eyed her suspiciously. He was a little taken aback. He hadn’t expected Granger to be the betting kind. This could be good though. Really good. “What did you have in mind?”

“I bet that I know more about you than you know about me.”

“I’ll take that bet, Granger. And what, may I ask, will I get when I win?”

“You won’t win,” replied Hermione confidently. “What do you want?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. If I win, you have to walk around in your knickers for the rest of the day.”

“You wish. There is no way I’m doing that. I think you’ve seen enough of me, as it is, this morning.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” agreed Malfoy, thinking about the incident that had happened that morning that had led to the cold shower that had then led to his current predicament as a stupid Harry Potter clone. “Okay, you have to kiss either Crabbe or Goyle.”

“When?”

Malfoy looked at her in shock. Had she just agreed to kissing Crabbe or Goyle? He had expected her to refuse, for sure. “Anytime before Christmas. With tongues,” he added, in case she was thinking otherwise.

“Okay.”

“You do realize, I mean that you have to stick your tongue down either Crabbe or Goyle’s throat.”

“Yes, I do understand the concept. Now, what do I get if I win?”

“What do you want?”

“My wand back.”

“No way.”

“Why not? I thought you were so sure; you were going to win,” mocked Hermione.

“I am confident, yes. Stupid, no. You’ve proven to have a bit of Slytherin in you. Besides, you do enough damage without a wand.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Alright,” said Hermione after thinking about it for a moment. “How about if I win, you can’t use my wand against me to exact revenge.”

Malfoy considered it carefully. “Okay. I have some other ideas, anyway.”

Hermione laughed. “Going to pour more salt in my wounds?”

“I think I’m through with the salt pranks. Although, I can’t promise you anything. I have bigger ideas.”

“Yeah right. You haven’t pulled off anything big yet.”

“Only because I haven’t had to,” Malfoy pointed out. “You’re doing all of the dirty work for me. Your hair looked just as stupid as mine, in case you forgot.”

“I have not,” said Hermione, glaring. “However, I’m not the one sitting here looking like Harry Potter, now am I? You have to admit that, that was pretty good.”

“Not without its price though. Have you forgotten this morning?”

Hermione blushed. “No, have you?”

“No, I have not.” Silence followed this admission. What did he mean by that? Was he referring to her humiliation or his? How did he feel about what had happened? Did he have feelings? 

Malfoy was the one to break the silence. “So, we have a bet?”

“No.”

“I knew you’d chicken out. So much for Gryffindor bravery.”

“I’m not chickening out,” said Hermione indignantly, “but it’s hardly fair that I have to kiss a gorilla, and you only have to refrain from using my wand which you shouldn’t be using anyway.”

“I’m certainly not kissing one of your friends,” said Malfoy with a look of disgust on his face.

“As if I’d do that to one of my friends. I call them friends for a reason. I don’t want to torture them.”

“Kissing me is hardly torture. Some girls enjoy it.”

“Yeah, Pansy maybe,” sneered Hermione.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” asked Malfoy.

“If you lose, you have to kiss Millicent Bulstrode.”

“Ugh. That’s almost as bad as kissing Potter or Weasel.”

“Oh, and kissing Crabbe or Goyle is a real treat.”

“Okay, okay. But if you lose, you also have to promise not to pull any acts of revenge on me for 24 hours.”

“Alright, deal.”

“Deal,” said Malfoy not bothering to shake her hand. He might get Mudblood germs or something. “Hey, before we start, which one are you going to kiss? Crabbe or Goyle?”

“Goyle,” answered Hermione immediately.

“That was awfully fast,” commented Malfoy suspiciously. “It’s almost as if you’ve thought of doing it before now.”

“You’d be surprised,” said Hermione smiling. Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “I’ll go first,” said Hermione closing her eyes. “What color are my eyes?”

“Easy. Brown. The same color as mud.”

Hermione opened her eyes to glare at him, but his eyes were closed and he asked, “What color are my eyes?”

“Gray with flecks of blue, but when you’re angry they turn a darker stormy gray, however right now…”

“You could have stopped at gray,” said Malfoy opening his eyes to look smugly down at Hermione.

She blushed. “What is my favorite book?”

Malfoy laughed. “Predictable question, even. _Hogwarts: A History_. I hardly ever see you without it. “What’s my favorite color?”

“Please. Slytherin green. Who’s predictable now? What kind of animal do I have for a pet?”

“A bow legged monstrosity of a cat with Weasel colored fur and a tail as bushy as your hair. What’s my favorite food?”

“Treacle tart. Same as Harry’s,” she replied smirking at him. “Who’s my favorite professor?”

“You’ll probably say Lupin, but it’s really Snape. You don’t want to admit it though because he killed Dumbledore.”

“How did you know that?” asked Hermione flabbergasted. Harry and Ron didn’t even know that.

Malfoy shrugged. “You like a challenge. Who’s my best friend?”

“You don’t have one. What’s my middle name?”

“Jean. Ran across it in detention once. How do I spend my summers?”

“Hanging out with your friends in Diagon Alley, acting like hoodlums, terrifying anyone younger or smaller than you. Attending boring parties your parents set up to help find your future Pureblood wife. Oh, and listening to Muggle music. Don’t worry. I won’t tell your Muggle-hating Dad that one. What was my most embarrassing moment?”

“When you accidentally turned yourself into a cat. Moaning Myrtle told me, in detail. Although, I have no idea how you managed that one. What was my most embarrassing moment?”

“Well, you’d probably say the bouncing ferret incident, but it’s really when Harry caught you crying to Moaning Myrtle.” Hermione didn’t look at him when she said this. “What do I want to do when I leave Hogwarts?”

“You want to be a Healer, but you should consider becoming an Auror. You can kick some serious Death Eater ass. Do you think I’m a Death Eater?”

“No, but I could still kick your ass, “ Hermione said, smiling. “Where do I have a birthmark?”

“Inner right thigh. White. Shaped like a star. I’ve seen you in a towel twice, you know.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you knew there was going to be a test on it,” replied Hermione tartly. He knew way too much about her. “I think it’s a tie, Malfoy. I guess neither one of us have to kiss a toad.”

“Wait a minute. I get one more question, and there is no way you know the answer to it.”

“Give it your best shot.”

“What is the one secret that I don’t want anyone to find out?” asked Malfoy smugly.

“That you don’t actually hate Muggles or Muggleborns, and you only use the word 'Mudblood' to keep up appearances with your father… and because it drives me crazy,” she added as an afterthought.

Malfoy stared at her in shock. “How on earth did you know that?”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “Research.”

“You did research on me?”

“Of course, I did. Whenever you start a new endeavor, it’s important to know what you are getting yourself into and to prepare for any challenges you might meet. I wasn’t about to walk into this situation blind. I found out everything there was to know about you. I am excellent at research. However, I am curious about how you knew so much about me. I admit; I didn’t see that coming.”

“Like I said, you’re predictable, and it’s important to know things about your enemies. You never know when it may come in handy. You know, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. That kind of thing.”

“So, you know all of those things about me because we’re enemies?”

“Of course. Why else?”

Hermione looked at him closely for a moment and then asked, “What color are Harry’s eyes?”

“What?” asked Malfoy, startled by the question.

“I asked you what color Harry’s eyes are.”

“How the hell would I know?” Malfoy fumed.

“Well, he’s your enemy too, isn’t he? That information might come in handy some day, after all. I’ll give you a hint. They’re the same color that your eyes have been all morning,” smirked Hermione.

Malfoy looked like someone had sent him a stunning spell. Shit. Why had he known so much about Hermione, or rather Granger, and nothing about Potter, who was by far his bigger enemy. His whole explanation seemed implausible now. And Granger had just called him out on it. She better not think he liked her, because he didn’t. He wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off of her face. And at the moment he could only think of one way. “Well, since we tied, I think the only fair thing to do is for both of us to go through with the conditions we set. 

“What!” There went the smirk. “Are you kidding me? You really want to kiss Millicent Bulstrode? You’re insane!”

“I don’t want to kiss Millicent, but it’s worth it for you to have to kiss Goyle.”

“Fine. It’s done.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve already fulfilled my condition of the bet. I’m done except for going 24 hours without revenge on you. Which will be fairly easy compared with what you still have to do.”

“You haven’t fulfilled your condition,” objected Malfoy. “You still have to kiss Goyle. Don’t think I’m letting you get out of it.”

“I’m not getting out of it. I’ve already done it. You said I could do it anytime before Christmas, and I did it seven days ago. I stuck my tongue down his throat just like you said. Ask Goyle if you don’t believe me. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it. He’ll probably tell you it was phenomenal, but it wasn’t. It was disgusting, and I’m ashamed of myself. But I did it, and I’m not doing it again.

“You kissed Goyle?” choked out Malfoy.

“How do you think I got most of that information on you? Research isn’t easy, you know. There is a lot of grunt work involved. No pun intended, although your friends do grunt quite a bit. This was my first assignment for the Order, and I took it very seriously. Crabbe and Goyle were quite willing to talk. They still held a grudge against you from when you Polyjuiced them into little girls to help you with your little project last year. It didn’t take too much convincing to get them to meet me at the Three Broomsticks. Negotiations went better than I expected. I have my boundaries, of course. I figured kissing Crabbe and Goyle wasn’t going to hurt. Much.”

“You kissed Crabbe too?”

“No, fortunately he passed out before he was able to collect. I wasn’t so lucky with Goyle. He can drink quite a lot. Cost me a fortune. So, do you think I should give Millicent her Christmas present early? It’s lip-gloss.


	8. Malfoy's Mischief

“So, do you prefer cherry or strawberry?” asked Hermione gleefully. “Or perhaps something a little more exotic. Mango, maybe?”

“I can’t believe you kissed Goyle. And you were going to kiss Crabbe too. You disgust me.” Malfoy wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t like this new found information one bit. In fact, he was in a very bad mood now, and he had a strange suspicion that it didn’t have anything to do with the bet.

“Oh, come off it, Malfoy. They’re your friends, you know. Besides, it’s not like I planned to really kiss Goyle. Quite the opposite, actually. They were supposed to be too drunk to remember even meeting up with me, much less being capable of kissing me. I know how greedy those two are. I plied them with enough Firewhisky to wipe out an entire Quidditch team. How was I supposed to know Goyle had an inhuman tolerance of alcohol? I suspect he might have a little giant blood in him. Reminded me a bit of Hagrid. The drinking part, I mean. Not the kissing part! Anyway, after Crabbe passed out, Goyle made his move...” Hermione paused for a moment before continuing. “I will spare you the details; it's none of your business, anyway. I was completely horrified by it at the time, but it turns out that it was for the best. At least now, I don’t have to do it in front of the entire school, like you do. How about coconut?”

“Go to hell, Granger.”

“You’re such a sore loser, Malfoy.”

“Malfoys do not lose.”

“Correction. Malfoys do not admit to losing. It doesn’t change the fact that you are still a loser,” said Hermione, holding up her fingers to form an “L” in front of her forehead. “I know, raspberry.”

“Don’t think this is over, Granger. I haven’t even begun to fight. When I’m through with you, you’re going to be sorry you ever took this stupid ass assignment. You thought you could handle me? Well, think again. Kissing Goyle will seem like a pleasant memory after I get done with you. And all you can do is wait because you can’t do anything about it for 24 hours. That’s a long time, Granger,” he said leaning in so close that their lips were almost touching. “I can do a lot of damage in 24 hours.” Her eyes widened in surprise as he gently brushed his lips against hers and leaned in closer to her ear. He slowly licked his lips and then whispered so softly, it tickled her ear. “By the way, I like vanilla.” Then he smirked and walked away, leaving her in a state of complete and utter shock.

What the hell? Was that a kiss? No, but it was an almost kiss. Malfoy had almost kissed her. And she kind of liked it! She was so screwed. She felt as if Malfoy had just hit her with a wandless version of the Jelly-Legs Jinx. Very effective. In fact, she had to sit down she was trembling so much. Malfoy’s lips had just touched hers. He had even tasted her lip-gloss and supposedly liked it! She put her fingers to her lips, remembering the sensation she had felt. Millicent was definitely not getting vanilla lip-gloss for Christmas. That was her flavor.

What on earth was going on? They were enemies. Enemies, enemies, enemies, she chanted to herself. Isn’t that why he said he knew so much about her? Of course, that was a bunch of bull, and she knew it. And he knew she knew it. It was a little disconcerting, to say the least. Harry and Ron didn’t even know that much about her, and they were her best friends. If Ron were given the same oral examination on her that Malfoy had just taken, he would probably get a “T” for Troll. The other thing that bothered Hermione was how mad Malfoy seemed to get about her kissing Goyle. She would have thought he would have found that funny (Harry and Ron probably would have laughed their asses off if she ever told them about it, which she most definitely would not), but he was angry. It was almost as if he was… No! No way. She was so not going there. He was probably just mad he didn’t get to witness her humiliation. After all, she was going to bring popcorn when he had to kiss Millicent.

Hermione decided she better head for her room. Malfoy was not in a good mood, and she didn’t feel comfortable out in the open with Malfoy out for revenge. She wasn’t going to be a sitting duck. Not that he could do much without a wand. She wasn’t all that scared. What was he going to do? Kiss her to death? She did not just think that! He was messing with her mind. That’s what he was doing. Well, she wasn’t going to fall for it. He could walk around naked for all she cared. She didn’t care about his stupid Quidditch muscles or his ridiculously silky hair or his oh so soft lips… Ahhhh! What was she thinking? Malfoy was a prick. He was a Pansy kissing, Slytherin slumming, Snitch fumbling, Harry hating, wand stealing, son of a Death Eater bastard, and she hated him. For the most part.

Just as she got to her room, she heard a string of curse words coming from the Weasley twins’ bedroom. What was he doing in there? Whatever he was doing, it was not going his way. Suddenly, the door flung open, and he came out into the hallway. He was back to his annoying perfect haired self but with a spectacular black eye. Hermione laughed. She had a pretty good idea what had caused it, as she had once been a victim of the same prank. “I must say, that while I was partial to the Harry Potter look, I have to admit, you do look good in purple.”

“You’re right again, Granger. I think purple is definitely my color,” he said, looking down at something he was holding in his hands. “Why don’t you thank Weasledee and Weaseldum for me?” 

Uh oh, thought Hermione as she stared down at his hands. Malfoy had his very own purple box. Damn those Weasley twins and their trouble making ways. She always knew their evil genius would come to no good. No good for her, anyway. She suddenly realized that Malfoy was standing too close to her again. Way too close. So, she quickly slammed the door in his face. Kiss that, thought Hermione.

“Damn it, Granger! That hurt!” shouted Malfoy from behind the door.

“Sorry Malfoy, but you’re not getting anywhere near me with that purple box.”

“Are you scared?”

“Yes!”

“Well, you can’t stay in there for 24 hours.”

“Want to bet?”

“No, that didn’t turn out too well for me last time.”

“It did for Millicent,” she taunted. 

“I don’t think you are in a position to make me mad right now.”

“I can do whatever the hell I want. I have my own purple box,” she said haughtily.

“Yes, I am aware of that, but you can’t use it right now, can you? I have 24 hours. I have a feeling; I can cause quite a bit of mischief with this little purple box.”

“Not if I don’t come out.”

“What if I come in?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” he asked in his stupid drawl.

Hermione didn’t answer. She was pretty sure that question was rhetorical, anyway. Of course he would. He was a Malfoy. He had no morals. He had no respect for her privacy. He probably wasn’t even aware she was a girl and needed privacy. She held her ear up to the door. She could hear him walking to his room. Probably going to look through his box and see which product could inflict the most damage. It was too quiet out there. She started pacing. There was no telling what evil things Malfoy had found in the twins’ bedroom. She was starting to get paranoid. And she was really starting to regret making fun of Malfoy’s stupid salt jokes.

Since she couldn’t retaliate, the only thing to do was go on the defensive. She needed a barricade. She had to stall his attack for as long as possible. She pushed a dresser against the door. Then she dragged her bed over. The only other big piece of furniture left was a wardrobe that was way too heavy to move. Hermione was finding this whole waiting 24 hours business way harder than she thought. She kind of wished that she had volunteered to kiss both Crabbe and Goyle instead of the whole 24-hour thing because waiting just plain sucked.

She didn’t have long to wait however. There was a banging on the door and Malfoy said, “Little pig, little pig. Let me in.”

“Go away, Malfoy.”

“You’re not playing right. You’re supposed to say ‘Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin’ because that makes it all the funnier when I switch a Weasley Butter Beard with your butterbeer at dinner time.”

“I am quite certain, I will not be hungry or thirsty for 24 hours.”

“Suit yourself. I have other ideas. So, are you going to let me in, or do I have to blow your house down?”

“Go blow yourself, Malfoy.”

“I told you not to make me mad.” 

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“That’s it. I’m coming in.”

“Oh no, you’re not,” said Hermione.

“Yes, I am, and you can’t stop me.”

“I can so stop you.”

“No you can’t. Not for 24 hours. We had a bet remember?”

I do remember. You said no acts of revenge for 24 hours. That doesn’t mean I have to let you do whatever you want to me,” replied Hermione.

“I beg to differ.”

“In your dreams, Malfoy.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Granger. I already told you I’m not interested.”

“Whatever. If not interested means tasting my lip-gloss, while on my lips, no less, then I don’t want any part of it.”

“That was just research. You’re not the only one good at it, you know.”

Hermione snorted. “You call that research? That was an almost kiss, and you know it. You almost kissed me, for goodness sake! Research my ass.”

“You’re one to talk. It seems your research involved quite a lot of kissing.”

Hermione blushed. “Are you still going on about that? I never said I enjoyed it.”

“Neither did I,” replied Malfoy.

Hermione did not appreciate that last comment. What did he mean he didn’t enjoy it? Did he not enjoy it? Not that she cared, of course. He was Malfoy. He enjoyed kissing Pansy. So, how would he know if an almost kiss was any good or not. He clearly had no idea. Not that she was admitting she had enjoyed it. No, she would definitely not admit to that. Suddenly, Hermione looked down at the floor in complete and utter terror. Rolling out from under her barricade was a grotesque eyeball on a string. She stared at it in horror. Then she heard Malfoy laughing on the other side of the door. So, she gave the eyeball the finger.

“Hey! That’s not very nice.”

“Is that an Extendable Eyeball?” asked Hermione incredulously.

“Yeah, it is. How did you know? It said prototype on it.”

“Just a guess. You don’t think it’s a real eyeball do you?”

“How the hell would I know? I wouldn’t put anything past those Weasley twits.”

Neither would Hermione. She didn’t know what to do. She was tempted to step on it, but it looked so real and disgusting. Way worse than the Extendable Ears. Fred and George were going to have to work on this idea before it was ready for sale at their shop. It was revolting to look at. It was completely distracting and so was the fact that she knew Malfoy was watching her while she tried to figure out what to do about it. The eyeball had been checking out her barricade but was now focused unblinkingly on her. She stuck her tongue out at it. So, the crack under the door was definitely a weak spot. Who knew what else he could send in her room through it. She needed to find something to block the crack. She looked around and decided she could use her trunk. She warily stepped around the eyeball and started moving the bed and dresser away from the door so she could wedge in her trunk to seal up the crack. The eyeball glared at her.

“Oh no, you don’t,” said Malfoy from behind the door. And then a tiny whirlwind sprung out from the crack. Hermione watched it, truly fascinated by the ingenuous little spell. It swirled and twirled around her room and then gradually started getting bigger and bigger. Hermione’s eyes widened in horror as her possessions started flying about the room. Her bed started sliding across the floor almost knocking her over. The gusts of winds were getting so powerful that she couldn’t even stand up straight. She had to lean forward to keep from being blown into the ever-growing whirlwind. Hermione finally had to admit defeat. She could not stay here. She had to brave Malfoy out in the open, and she had to make it to the door. She had to escape. 

With much difficulty, she grabbed onto the door handle, unlocked it and held on with all her might. The door flung open and her feet came up off the floor. The wind was so strong now that she couldn’t even open her eyes to see what was going on. She was just about to get sucked into the whirlwind when she felt strong arms grab her around the waist and pull her into the hallway. She landed with a thud on top of Malfoy. She briefly wondered why they kept getting into this same compromising position when she realized that at least this time she was on top. They were face to face. So close, she could feel his breath on her skin. Hermione had this strange urge to close her eyes and lean in towards him when, all of a sudden, she was abruptly thrown off of him and onto the floor. Malfoy quickly got up and with a little difficulty was able to close her bedroom door before the whirlwind escaped to terrorize the rest of the house.

Malfoy turned around and looked at Hermione for a moment. Then he smirked and asked, “Did you almost kiss me?”


	9. More Mayhem

“No!” exclaimed Hermione, completely horrified.

Malfoy continued to smirk.

Hermione glared at him. “I most certainly did not almost kiss you. I would never, ever, almost kiss you. Not in a million years. Not if there was a wand pointed at my throat. Not even if you were the last man on earth,” protested Hermione too much.

Malfoy just smirked some more.

“Not even if I was Imperiused. I would overthrow it and still not almost kiss you.”

Still smirking. That son of a bitch!

“In fact, even if Voldemort, himself, threatened to Avada me on the spot if I didn’t kiss you, I still wouldn’t even almost kiss you. That’s how vile I think you are.”

“Wow. I must have really blown you away. In more ways than one,” said Malfoy with a smirk!

Hermione’s eyes shot daggers at him. Another smirk and a pun? That was too much. He was just asking for it now. That smirk was going down! “I would rather kiss both Crabbe and Goyle consecutively with tongues and, maybe even, let them cop a feel than almost kiss you.” Take that, you evil Slytherin bastard!

Smirk gone. Malfoy glared back at her. How dare she? Crabbe and Goyle? Malfoy noticed the look of triumph in her eyes. Now he couldn’t have that, could he? Malfoy took a step closer to her and whispered rather seductively, “Oh, yeah?” Then he leaned in closer toward her sweet vanilla scented lips. Her Gryffindor bravery kept her from running for her life but just barely. As he got closer, she instinctively tilted her head up towards him, closed her eyes and, ever so slightly, leaned in. 

“Ha! You did it again!”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open. Fuck! Had she gone stupid all of a sudden? She might as well have the word “sucker” tattooed to her forehead. Because that is exactly what she was, a sucker. This just proved that Gryffindor bravery really was sometimes just Gryffindor stupidity. Why couldn’t she have been sorted into Ravenclaw? She would have never fallen for such an obvious trap if she were a Ravenclaw. 

Of course, she also probably wouldn’t be friends with Harry and Ron and that would be bad. She wouldn’t trade them for the world, even though being friends with them meant getting involved in dangerous adventures and having an evil snake faced bastard and his death eating minions out to kill you every day of your life. Hermione and her friends had been through a lot together over the years, and the Gryffindor bravery had always come through for them, as it would in the future, she was sure. This was just one more adventure, not so much dangerous as it was annoying (really annoying), but an adventure nonetheless. She could do this. Malfoy would not get the best of her. She was a Gryffindor through and through and proud of it, but sometimes you needed a little Slytherin to get you through the day.

Hermione confidently looked Malfoy straight in the face and said, “Oops! That whirlwind must have made me a little dizzy. I guess I got confused and thought you were my Slytherin lover, Goyle. You Slytherins are all alike anyway. Nasty, sneaky, revolting, magically challenged. It’s really quite hard to tell you apart,” she said and smirked! 

Hermione could tell Malfoy was furious. After all, hadn’t she been furious when he wouldn’t acknowledge her Harry Potter prank. It still made her angry just thinking about it. She had been looking forward to an all out Malfoy fit and felt a little cheated by its denial. But now, she had her revenge. She had not only pretended the almost kiss didn’t bother her, at all, but she had also insulted his House, rubbed Goyle in his face and used his own smirk against him. It was so Slytherin. In fact, Hermione was quite sure she had just out-Slytherined the Slytherin Prince himself, and that made her almost forget her stupidity with the almost kiss. Almost. Then he smacked an egg on her forehead.

“What the hell, Malfoy?”

“You Gryffindors think you’re so brave. Well, I think you’re chicken shit.”

“What!” squawked Hermione. Uh oh. She didn’t like this one bit. This was way worse than being a cat. Cats at least had a certain amount of dignity about them. Chickens, were well, chickens! She could feel herself sprouting feathers. And even worse than that, she could feel herself about to lay an egg! Oh my God! How was that even possible? Damn Weasley twins! This was truly degrading. Grade A degrading, she unfortunately couldn’t help thinking to herself. Her eyes slightly widened as she felt the egg plop out into her knickers. Malfoy was laughing hysterically at her, but she had a funny feeling that he didn’t know a thing about the egg. And he wasn’t going to if she could help it. She had to get away from him. She had always been rather good at those races where you had to carry an egg on a spoon, but this was ridiculous. She had an egg in her knickers! Why had she chosen to wear a skirt today of all days? 

She started waddling toward the bathroom. There just wasn’t a better word for the way she was walking. She was trying to be really careful because she suspected it was a magic egg and who knew what would happen if it broke. Damn genius Weasley twins! Malfoy probably thought the waddle was just part of the spell. As she waddled by Malfoy, he grabbed her arm. At least she hadn’t totally turned into a chicken.

“Where do you think you’re going? Trying to fly the coop?”

“Ha ha. You’re so funny. Maybe I just need time to re”coop”erate,” retorted Hermione.

“I don’t think so. You’re not hiding out in the bathroom, so that I miss out on all of the fun.”

“Trust me. This is not fun.” And just as she said that, out plopped another egg. Her knickers were starting to sag. This was so not fun. “Let go of my arm, Malfoy.”

“No.”

“If you don’t want egg on your face, you will let go of my arm now!” Out plopped another egg. The situation was getting desperate. Her knickers were getting weighed down by the three eggs and had already started sliding down her hips. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what I said it means. If you don’t let go of me, I will smash eggs in your face,” snarled Hermione.”

“You can’t.”

“I can, and I will,” replied Hermione.

“For one thing, you don’t have any eggs.”

“Want to bet?”

Malfoy raised his eyebrows but continued,” And second you can’t do anything to me for 24 hours.”

“Oh yeah. Well, you better get away from me then because I can’t be responsible for what might happen. Omelets are bad.” Plop. Her knickers were now almost to her knees. If they fell to her ankles, the magic eggs would break and all hell would probably break loose. Not to mention, Malfoy would see her knickers hanging down around her ankles. She was now in a very strange position, trying to hold her knickers up with her legs spread apart. This was so humiliating.

“What the hell are you doing, Granger?”

“I’m just trying to save the world again, is all. Now let go of my arm so I can take off my knickers.”

“What!”

“You heard me. I need to take off my knickers, now!”

Malfoy let go of her arm immediately. In his very male opinion, there was really no arguing with that kind of statement. He watched in fascination as she hiked up her skirt and gently started sliding her knickers down her long shapely legs. It was truly an awe-inspiring sight. Then she just stood there holding her pink polka dotted knickers cupped in her hands in front of her. And then he noticed for the first time that her surprisingly sexy knickers were filled with eggs! How had he not noticed the eggs before? “Did those come out of your…”

“Yes!” said Hermione quickly, turning even pinker than her knickers.

“Holy shit! You laid eggs?” laughed Malfoy.

Hermione was getting more than a little irritated with the little prick but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. She was about to lay another egg. “Correction. I am laying eggs, and you need to catch the next one.”

Malfoy stopped laughing. “Hell no! Those are coming out of your…”

“Catch the damn egg!”

Before Malfoy could even think about it, he dove between Hermione’s legs and caught the egg as if it were a snitch. 

Thank God for his Quidditch skills thought Hermione. However, she said, “Thank God you didn’t miss the egg like you usually do the Snitch.”

Malfoy got up and scowled at her. He was so furious at that comment, he hadn’t even bothered to look up her skirt and that made him even angrier. “What do you know about Quidditch, you stupid Mudblood?”

Mudblood again? Please. That figures he would resort to that same old stupid insult. As if it meant anything coming from him. “I have seen you play enough Quidditch to know that Harry always beats you to the Snitch.”

“Oh, everything is always about Potter, isn’t it? The world just has to revolve around St. Potter. Just because he has some stupid scar, people think he’s going to save the world.”

“He is going to save the world, and you better start rooting for him because if the other side wins, we die and I don’t mean just Harry and I. Voldemort will probably kill me personally because of what I’ve helped do and to make Harry suffer, but he won’t really care about you, now will he? He’ll probably just let a rat like Wormtail do you in. What kind of way to die is that? Personally, I’d rather go out fighting.”

“You would. You’re such a Gryffindor.”

“I do believe that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me. Um, Malfoy?”

“What?”

“I’m about to lay another egg.”

“Why didn’t you just set down the eggs you’re holding, so you could catch it yourself?”

“I was too busy arguing with you, and now it’s too late!”

This was the perfect opportunity to get a chance to look up her skirt again, but he was still too angry about the Quidditch comment. “Why don’t you just get your hero Potter to catch it?” he sneered.

Plop! Shit! Hermione tried to catch it between her legs, as Malfoy was obviously going to sit on his ass, but she accidentally smashed it. And unfortunately, instead of feeling slimy egg yolk running down her thighs, she felt a slight burning sensation. Then all of a sudden a Weasleys’ Wild-Fire Whiz-Bang shot out from between her legs right at Malfoy. He tried to dive out of the way, but it still ended up scorching his hair.

“Damn it, Granger. You’ve ruined my hair, again!”

“It’s your own fault, you stupid prick. I told you to catch the damn egg. And this is your prank! I should be yelling at you. I have fireworks coming out of my… Well, I’d rather not say, but they are coming out of there. I could have died!”

“Stop being so dramatic. You seem pretty annoyingly alive to me.”

“Dramatic! How about I shove these eggs somewhere that’s special to you and see how dramatic you are! Maybe there is something you care about even more than your stupid hair!” Hermione had a lot more to say, but then she felt that all too familiar, plop!

“Shit!” Hermione had been so busy throwing a hissy fit; she hadn’t even noticed she was laying another egg until it smashed on the floor. As the firework went off at her feet, it caught her completely off guard and caused her to drop her knickers along with the four eggs she was holding. Weasleys’ Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs went everywhere. Red and blue and green and purple lights filled the hallway and every time they collided they multiplied and turned into some strange new spectacular display. Hermione and Malfoy dropped to the ground in an effort to avoid getting hit by the errant fireworks. Malfoy immediately started crawling to his bedroom to escape the madness and probably to avoid damaging his hair even more. Hermione decided to crawl after him, as her bedroom currently had a dangerous whirlwind in it. Although, if she would have had time to really think about it, she wouldn’t have thought Malfoy’s bedroom would have been all that much safer.

Malfoy tried to slam his door shut before Hermione could get in, but she was too fast for him and was able to squeeze in before he shut the door. “Get out of my room, Granger!”

“I’m not going back out there. I could be killed!”

“I doubt I would be that lucky,” muttered Malfoy under his breath.

Hermione stood up and surveyed the room. It was rather small and sparsely decorated. This was obviously the guest room for the guests that the Black’s didn’t wish to impress. There were books everywhere, but otherwise, it was surprisingly tidy. Malfoy really didn’t have anything in common with Ron. She noticed schoolbooks on the side table and was wondering if Malfoy was thinking of returning to school when she was roughly pushed onto the bed.

“What the fuck, Malfoy? I will not be doing that with you!” sputtered an outraged Hermione.

“You know, you’re going to make a really shitty mother one day.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Your fucking eggs! Don’t you have some kind of nesting instinct or something? Or, are you just going to let them explode all over the place?”

“I’m not a God damn chicken, Malfoy! Human beings do not normally lay eggs! Do I need to have “the talk” with you because it seems like your parents didn’t do a very good job!”

“I don’t need a sex talk from you, Granger. I’m sure you’d find a way to make even sex sound boring.”

Hermione was so indignant at Malfoy’s last comment that she promptly laid another egg and threw it at his big fat soon to be more than slightly scorched head. “Fuck the bet!”


	10. Hermione’s Hang-Up

“What the hell, Granger! Are you trying to kill me?” 

Much to Hermione’s dismay, Malfoy had just miraculously caught the evil egg before it smashed into his stupid Slytherin smirking face. And even more infuriating was the fact that it didn’t even crack. She figured he must really rock those pure-blood family picnics with his freak egg catching skills. 

“Yes, I was trying to kill you, but I failed miserably. I guess we have that in common now,” said Hermione dryly, making a dig at his failed attempt to kill Dumbledore.

“Go ahead, push me a little harder and then we can go back to not having anything in common again.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“Well, you should be. I have a purple box, and you don’t. Thanks to me, yours is getting smashed to bits as we speak.”

Hermione thought about the whirlwind that was currently destroying most of her possessions. It did not put her in the best of moods. In fact, it made her feel rather destructive herself. “And thanks to you, I am laying an arsenal of explosives as we speak,” said Hermione, pulling out an egg from beneath her skirt and gently laying it on the bedside table. “And I don’t miss twice.”

Malfoy eyed her warily. He suspected that was true. She certainly didn’t throw like a girl. Why did she have to be so fucking good at everything? And the bitch wasn’t playing fair either. She was purposely aiming at his hair. She knew that was his weakness, and she was exploiting it. She had already singed his beautiful hair once. He didn’t want a bald spot too. He shuttered just thinking about it. Malfoys did not have bald spots. Malfoys always had perfect hair. It was time to go into survival mode. It was time for a diversion.

“Speaking of that. Get out of my bed.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said get the hell out of my bed.”

“No. You can’t tell me what to do. I’m the babysitter. I’m in charge here. Besides, you are the one who pushed me onto your bed in the first place, and I will stay in your bed if I want to.” Hermione said this with conviction, however inwardly, she was having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that she was actually pleading her case to stay in Malfoy’s bed. She had never in her life even entertained the thought being in Malfoy’s bed, much less fighting for her right to do so. Things were just so weird right now.

“Babysitter my ass. You’ve screwed the whole thing up, and you know it. You’re not in charge, I am, and I don’t want you laying those disgusting eggs in my bed. How am I going to be able to sleep in that bed knowing those eggs came out of your…”

“It’s all your fault! It was your trick, you know. You’re the one who has screwed things up around here, not me,” said Hermione, trying not to act embarrassed. She was going to kill those stupid yet horribly clever Weasley twins with their sick twisted minds. She still couldn’t believe she was actually laying eggs and that Malfoy was witnessing it all. 

“Blame Weasel squared. It’s not like I read the directions or anything. I didn’t know the Eggsellent Eggsploding Eggs were going to come out of your …”

“You didn’t read the directions for something called Eggsellent Eggsploding Eggs! Are you insane?”

“Nobody reads directions.”

“I read directions!”

“Like I said, only bloody know-it-alls read directions. So therefore, I had no idea the eggs would come out of your…”

“Stop! I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Why did he have to keep bringing up the fact that the stupid eggs were coming out of her you know what? The fact that they were coming out of there was bad enough. There was no need to talk about it, for goodness sake.

Malfoy smiled. It was an evil smile, but he did smile. He enjoyed making Hermione uncomfortable. It made him feel all tingly inside. “What? I can’t say that the eggs are coming out of your…”

“La la la la la la la la la la la la,” said Hermione, sticking her fingers in her ears. Immature, yet effective.

Malfoy leaned onto the bed and pulled a finger out of her ear. The moment he touched her, the la la’s died on her lips. Perhaps not as effective a strategy as she thought. He was so close, she could feel his ticklish breath on her ear and then her eyes widened in shock as she heard him whisper, “Va-gi-na.” Drawing it out, enunciating each and every syllable. Hermione’s face was burning. She was so completely humiliated, yet strangely turned on at the same time.

Hermione’s face felt like it was on fire. Malfoy was talking dirty and to her, no less! Hermione Jean Granger, self-professed bookworm. Hermione knew that Malfoy was only saying it to embarrass her and it was, it really was embarrassing her, but it was also having quite another effect on her. An effect she hadn’t quite expected. And she really feared what having an orgasm would do to the Eggsellent Eggsploding Eggs inside of her. She had no desire to become an automatic egg weapon, even if Malfoy did deserve it. It was time to pull out her inner Slytherin. She had to stop him from saying anything else remotely sexy to her. She had to fight back. She had to take away his power over her by beating him at his own game. This was her hang-up and she had to face it head on. So, she closed her eyes and blurted out the first thing she could think of.

“Penis!” She all but shouted it in his ear. He was so surprised by this sudden outburst (who wouldn’t be?) that he jumped back a little. This gave her courage, and she continued on. “Vagina, hymen, clitoris, orgasm!” 

“You know, it’s not very sexy when you shout it like that,” said Malfoy sarcastically.

But Hermione wasn’t listening to him. She had more forbidden words to conquer. “Genitalia, fornication, masturbation, fellatio!” she shouted gleefully.

“Well, maybe it’s a little sexy,” admitted Malfoy somewhat reluctantly, unconsciously sinking onto the bed next to Hermione. 

However, she still wasn’t paying any attention to him, at all. She was in her own sex filled world. Hermione was having a truly freeing experience. So freeing, in fact, that suddenly she stood up and started jumping on the bed shouting every single word she could think of that she had ever felt was taboo. Every sex related word that she had ever felt was too embarrassing to say out loud or sometimes even think in her head. For the first time in her life, she felt sexually enlightened.

Unfortunately, Hermione was having a little personal growth at Malfoy’s expense. Much to his chagrin, he was now getting insanely turned on by this out of control sex-spewing bookworm. Not only was she shouting out every sexual organ or act that she could think of (she may have been rather clinical about it, but it was still dirty talk in Malfoy’s book), but she was also jumping on his bed right above him without any knickers on. He was now getting that look up her skirt over and over and over again. 

“Granger, you need to stop.” He didn’t like where this was going, at all. He was trapped for who knows how long in his bedroom alone with a girl, a girl he hated maybe, but still a girl, and unfortunately she didn’t look like a chicken at all. Sure she had some feathers on her, but it made her look more like some exotic sex kitten that just ate the canary than some type of poultry. It was strangely hot, and he was facing the hard reality of some serious side effects coming on. He liked naughty Hermione. He liked naughty Hermione a lot.

However, she barely took any notice of Malfoy. “Why? Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself,” spouted off Hermione, quoting Dumbledore quite out of context. It was really unlikely Dumbledore had ever intended this statement to refer to nipples or anuses, but unfortunately, thanks to Snape, the world would never know for sure.

Malfoy’s eyes had started to glaze over, his head filled with his own naughty thoughts as he watched Hermione bounce up and down, up and down, but then he saw it. He felt like his eyes were burning a hole in his head, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. It was like staring at the sun for too long but, of course, way more disturbing. He silently got up on his knees and reached out for Hermione’s arm to stop her from bouncing. Then as she looked on in horror, he put his other hand up her skirt and caught the egg before it dropped. Hermione stood there frozen in embarrassment. 

“Oh, my God! I think my eyes are on fire.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” said Hermione, sitting down. This had to be the most humiliating moment of her entire life. It just really couldn’t get any worse than this. Malfoy had just seen her, her… Damn! After everything, she still couldn’t say it, not even in her head. She had just, moments before, shouted every embarrassing word she could think of, and she still couldn’t use that new found skill in a practical setting. So much for her so called enlightenment. She probably would be a stuck up prude for the rest of her life. Anyway, Malfoy had now seen “it” and not only had he just seen it, he had seen a fucking Eggsellent Eggsploding Egg coming out of it. 

If this whole bloody thing weren’t all his fault, she would have felt a little sorry for him. She knew she didn’t want to ever see something like that. She for sure wasn’t getting out her hand mirror anytime soon. It was like he had just seen her giving birth only instead of a baby it was an egg, an egg baby. Maybe Fred and George could use this prank for some kind of parenting class. Do something useful for a change. Because if anything was going to stop teenage pregnancy, this would. It was disturbing, indeed. Nightmare worthy really. It was almost like Malfoy was her foul mouth doula or something. God, she hoped her and Malfoy hadn’t bonded over this. 

“What the fuck was that all about?”

Nope. No bonding there. “You wouldn’t understand it even if I dumbed it down to Crabbe and Goyle standards for you because you are an insensitive prick who only thinks of himself or in other words you are a Slytherin.”

“You’re fucking right I wouldn’t understand because you’re a crazy bitch, that’s why.”

“Only because you are slowly driving me insane,” she muttered.

Malfoy continued on as if he hadn’t heard her because there was only one thing on his mind at the moment, well besides that. “I mean, why on earth would you jump on a bed, particularly my bed, without any knickers on?”

“You didn’t have to look you know.”

“It was kind of hard not to. I am a guy you know, and you’re well, a chicken girl.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at that. It was only too true. “Don’t remind me. Give me the directions for these stupid Eggsellent Eggsploding Eggs. Someone should read them, anyway.”

Malfoy grudgingly went over to his purple box and then handed the directions to Hermione but only because he was slightly curious. She read through them and then said to Malfoy, “It says the spell will end when a dozen eggs have been laid. Only two more to go. I guess we just have to wait it out.”

Malfoy suddenly grinned. “I saw your…”

“I know, Malfoy.”

“Bet St. Potter and the Weasel haven’t even seen it.”

Hermione glared.

“What about Goyle? Has he seen it?”

Now Hermione grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Malfoy?”

This time Malfoy glared.


	11. Gregory Goyle

Malfoy seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face as Hermione watched him rummage through his purple box. She was in for it now. Hermione leaned back on the bed with her arms crossed and waited. Those stupid eggs couldn’t come out fast enough. Malfoy was such an ass. Hermione didn’t know why she had said that thing about Goyle. Okay, she did. It was because she knew it would piss him off, but what did he care what Goyle saw or didn’t see? What did he care what they did or didn’t do that night at The Three Broomsticks? It was none of his business. It’s not like he liked her or anything. It’s not like he had any right to be angry about the situation, if there really was some kind of “situation”. You’d think he’d be happy his friend was finally getting some. Not that Goyle necessarily did get some, mind you. The point was, it was none of Malfoy's fucking business. 

Hermione thought back to the beginning of summer. It had been undeniably boring, until that is, she got her first assignment for the Order. Then everything had changed. Life was definitely not boring anymore. It was completely unpredictable. And good old predictable Hermione found that just a little bit exciting. Not that Hermione hadn’t had any adventures, she certainly had, but they were usually dangerous and involved possible death. Babysitting Malfoy was quite a different type of adventure. She didn’t fear for her life, her sanity maybe. 

Malfoy was acting very weird at the moment. He was now pacing the room. It was as if he was, dare she think it, jealous. Of Goyle. And now she had to put up with his shit. The thing that got to her the most was that “research” had gotten her into this whole mess. “Research”, the one thing she could always depend upon, had turned her life upside down. Thanks to her “research”, Malfoy was now a ticking time bomb and all because of one stupid, crazy ass night at The Three Broomsticks.

One week earlier...

The moment Remus left, Hermione got to work on her new assignment. She only had a week to prepare, but Hermione knew exactly what she had to do. It was quite obvious, actually. It was the same thing she did for every assignment she had ever excelled in. What else? Research. She would totally have the upper hand because she was positive Malfoy didn’t have a clue about her. Malfoy would be putty in her hands. She would find out everything there was to know about him from what his deepest darkest secret was to whether or not he really did sleep naked. What? She’d heard the rumors. She was curious, is all. Besides' every bit of information could be important, big or small. Probably small she smirked to herself.

This assignment was going to be too easy. She suspected Remus had his doubts about her being able to handle Malfoy, but she knew better. He wasn’t even going to have a wand, for goodness sake. And she knew tons of spells she could use and loads more she was planning on looking up. Malfoy didn’t stand a chance. She could just picture herself reforming Malfoy and earning the respect of the whole Order. Then maybe they would give her a real assignment.

Dobby was first on Hermione’s list. Who better to know Draco Malfoy’s secrets than his own house-elf? Servants always had the best dish. Hermione knew this from the gossip magazines, not that she read that kind of trash, not really anyway. Maybe skimmed an article here or there while waiting in line at the store. It’s not like she subscribed to them or anything. Anyway, it took some finagling, but she convinced Harry to get her a meeting with Dobby. Of course, she had to tell a little white lie since she did not want Harry or Ron to know about her assignment babysitting Malfoy. She had two very good reasons for not telling them. One, they would go ballistic. Two, they would go ballistic. Wasn’t that a good enough reason? They were better off not knowing. They could be blissful in their ignorance. That hadn’t hurt them so far, after all. So, she just told Harry it had to do with S.P.E.W. For some reason, he wasn’t too receptive to that idea either, but after a lot of wheedling, he finally caved. Boys were so easy to manipulate.

Hermione got some really good information from Dobby, although she had to take an iron, a fire poker and a frying pan away from him so he didn’t do any lasting damage to himself. Hermione felt rather guilty about the whole thing. Some president of S.P.E.W. she was. She promised herself she would knit some more hats and socks when she got home. 

When Dobby wasn’t trying to hurt himself, he told Hermione all about Malfoy’s childhood. He was a thumb sucker and a Mama’s boy. His favorite bedtime story was “The Tales of Beedle the Bard” (whatever that was, probably not that important, anyway). He was scared of the dark and slept with a nightlight (and he still did!) His mother wasn’t cold and disapproving. She loved her son very much. His father was cold and disapproving, but he loved his son, too. The Malfoys ate dinner together every evening. Malfoy’s favorite food was treacle tart, the same as Harry’s (too funny). He liked to read Potion's books and experiment making new potions (he blew up the drawing room when he was ten). He hated Harry and Hermione and all of the Weasleys (even the one’s he hadn’t met). He cried and had a fit when he had a bad hair day. He took bubble baths. He slept in silk pajama pants or sometimes naked! And he was, in fact, not small. She so did not ask that last question. Dobby volunteered that information almost entirely all on his own. She may have made some kind of crack about it or something. She couldn’t quite remember. But she definitely did not ask about it. 

What she did not find out, however, was the one thing she most wanted to know. Was Draco Malfoy a Death Eater or simply just another asshole? More research was needed. The next person on Hermione’s list to interrogate was Pansy Parkinson, Malfoy’s on and off again girlfriend. Pansy had probably seen Malfoy naked and would know if he had the Dark Mark or not. Pansy was such a bitch though that Hermione decided just to skip over her. That left Crabbe and Goyle, the two buffoons that always occupied the space on either side of Malfoy. She wasn’t crazy about the idea of having to speak with them or rather attempt communication with them, but she really felt she didn’t have a choice. 

She now knew a bit about his home life, but she needed to find out what Malfoy was like at school and around his friends. All she knew about him was that he liked to call her a Mudblood and make her, Harry and Ron miserable. Because of that, it was hard to be objective on the matter. She needed a friend’s perspective of him. She needed insider information. The problem was getting Crabbe and Goyle to meet with her and then actually getting them to spill the beans on Malfoy. She needed a plan. 

She didn’t know that much about them though other than that they picked on younger students and were bodyguards for Malfoy. Oh, and that Harry and Ron said they were greedy little pigs. Maybe she should offer them free stuff. She also considered meeting with just one of them, it would be less intimidating that way, but she couldn’t decide on which one. They were always Crabbe and Goyle as if they didn’t have their own identity. Maybe one was smarter than the other, or not. Well, maybe one of them could speak in full sentences. It was too close to call though. They both looked stupid to her. So, she just decided to send an owl to both.

_Dear Crabbe and Goyle,_

_Please meet me at The Three Broomsticks tomorrow night at 10:00 pm. I would like to speak with you on a very important matter. Have a butterbeer on me. Please owl me with your answer. I hope to see you there._

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger_

_……………………………………………………………………………………………_

_Granger,_

_What’s in it for us?_

_Goyle_

_………………………………………………………………………………………………_

_Dear Goyle,_

_Butterbeer?_

_Sincerely,  
Hermione Granger_

_………………………………………………………………………………………………_

_Granger,_

_You can do better than that._

_Goyle_

_………………………………………………………………………………………………_

_Dear Goyle,_

_Appetizers?_

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger_

_………………………………………………………………………………………………_

_Granger,_

_Forget it._

_Goyle_

_………………………………………………………………………………………………_

_Dear Goyle,_

_What’s your offer?_

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger_

_………………………………………………………………………………………………_

_Granger,_

_Firewhisky and a favor._

_Goyle_

_………………………………………………………………………………………………_

_Dear Goyle,_

_What kind of favor?_

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger_

_………………………………………………………………………………………………_

_Granger,_

_Sexual._

_Goyle_

_………………………………………………………………………………………………_

_Dear Goyle,_

_Firewhisky and a kiss. Take it or leave it._

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger_

_………………………………………………………………………………………………_

_Granger,_

_Firewhisky and a kiss. A real one. Oh, and Crabbe wants the appetizers, too. Don’t be late._

__

Hermione stared at the last message in disbelief and utter horror. Had she just promised to kiss Crabbe and Goyle? She was insane. She should be put in St. Mungos. Part of her had thought they would just say no. What reason could they possibly have for saying yes? Now she wished she would have just owled Crabbe. She might have gotten off with just the appetizers. This Goyle was tricky, dare she say clever even. Well, clever was a stretch, but he certainly wasn’t a dumb ass, that’s for sure. He had somehow gotten her to sell herself like some cheap harlot. She was selling her body for information. Now she had to kiss both of them. And what did Goyle mean by a real one? She felt like she was going to vomit.

She was late arriving at the Three Broomsticks. Crabbe and Goyle were already there looking somewhat angry or maybe that’s how they normally looked. She couldn’t remember. She hadn’t ever really paid that much attention to them. They were Malfoy’s clueless thugs. What else was there to know? She noticed that they had chosen a very secluded table in the back. That did not bode well for Hermione. She had a feeling she was in deep shit. Cautiously, she looked over the brutish pair in front of her. Crabbe had extremely short, dark hair, almost shaved. He was big, really big. Hermione wouldn’t go as far as saying he was fat because that wouldn’t be polite, but yeah, he was kind of fat. He looked like a typical bully, just plain mean and angry and obviously very hungry as he had an enormous meal spread out in front of him. Hermione was a little miffed at that. She had only agreed to appetizers, after all. However, she had a funny feeling that she wouldn’t mention that fact to his face. 

She looked over at Goyle. He was taller than Crabbe and had lighter brown hair that was slightly wavy, and he had dark brown piercing eyes that were totally focused on her. He was also big but more in a muscular kind of way. He also looked fairly mean, but Hermione was more interested to observe that his expression didn’t have the same vacant look that Crabbe’s had. Perhaps there really was a brain in there somewhere. She was going to have to keep an eye on him.

You’re late,” grunted Goyle in a deep rumbling voice.

“I, I had trouble deciding what to wear,” she stammered. Goyle was making her very nervous for some reason. She never usually had trouble being in control. This was slightly disconcerting. She had faced Death Eaters and still been able to at least conceal her nerves. Of course, Goyle could be a Death Eater for all she knew. She knew absolutely nothing about him. Hermione took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. She was an Order member and had a job to do. She needed to take charge of this meeting and try not to say anything else as stupid as that lame excuse she just made. She sounded like Lavender or some other dim witted girl who worried about clothes.

“And you decided on that?” asked Goyle, raising his eyebrows.

To her great annoyance, Hermione blushed. The truth was she really did have trouble deciding what to wear. She had tried on several different outfits and had ended up wearing most of them. She had thought of going with something sexy in an effort to make Crabbe and Goyle talk, thus the low cut silk top and short (well short for Hermione, anyway) skirt. However, she decided this was a bad idea as they might expect something more than a kiss, and she wasn’t sure if she could even handle that. So, she went with something more demure, a simple white button down shirt and pale blue Capri pants. Of course, this outfit had the potential to be inadvertently sexy by looking too innocent. What bloke didn’t fantasize about having his way with a, well let’s just say, inexperienced girl? This thought made her cringe. So, Hermione decided her best bet was to go as frumpy as possible. And layer, lots of layering. So, she kept on both outfits and added a dumpy over-sized orange jumper that Mrs. Weasley had knitted for her fourth year when she was feeling less than generous toward Hermione because of something she had read in the Daily Prophet. Hermione thought the outfit was perfect. Absolutely hideous, but perfect. Maybe they wouldn’t even want to kiss her; it was so awful.

“Yes, well let’s just begin, shall we? I don’t want to take up anymore of your time than necessary,” said Hermione in a business like tone, tentatively sitting down next to Crabbe on the very edge of the seat, leaving as much room as possible between them. They had chosen a booth and Crabbe was on one side and Goyle on the other. She had decided Crabbe was the lesser of two evils since he was so busy stuffing his face, he barely seemed to acknowledge her existence. Goyle, on the other hand, was focused so intently on her that her uneasiness with it made her completely forget she was sitting next to Crabbe. All she could do was stare back at Goyle’s dark brooding eyes. She would have never guessed he would be so intense. It was overwhelming.

At that moment, the waitress came by to take her drink order. Hermione started to order herself a butterbeer when Goyle said, “Three firewhiskys.” Hermione glared at him as the waitress quickly left, sensing the tension forming between them.

“I can order for myself, thank you. I didn’t even want a firewhisky. I don’t drink,” huffed Hermione.

“You do tonight,” said Goyle simply. He was definitely a man of few words.

Hermione carefully swallowed her anger. It wouldn’t do any good to piss him off when she wanted information from him. However, she couldn’t resist saying, “We’ll see about that.”

For some reason this made Goyle smile. However, it was not a comforting smile, and it didn’t make her feel any easier about what she had to do. Hermione’s big plan she had come up with was to get Crabbe and Goyle completely drunk off their asses. She figured that it would loosen their lips for the information part of the evening and then incapacitate them for the rest. She so did not want to kiss either one of them. Crabbe was disgusting and Goyle was just plain creepy.

In fact, Goyle was staring so hard at her that she actually worried that he might be a Legilimens and was reading her mind. She didn’t think he was that smart but just to be safe she brought up an image of Ron naked in her head. She had once accidentally walked in on him when he was coming out of the shower while she was staying at the Burrow. She was quite sure Goyle wouldn’t be too pleased with that image. She almost snickered. 

She carefully observed Goyle, searching for any change in his expression. He either wasn’t impressed with the image of Ron naked, or he wasn’t a Legilimens. Either way, she decided to keep the image in her head, just in case. However, the constant thought of Ron naked in her head made Hermione zone out a bit and then she started fantasizing about him doing stuff to her. She could almost feel his hand snaking up her leg toward her… Shit! 

She yelped and jumped away in shock, forgetting she was on the edge of her seat until she fell right off of it and right on her ass onto the hard stone floor. She looked up at Crabbe in disgust and anger. It seemed he had an appetite for more than just food, after all. Crabbe and Goyle both laughed at her but then Goyle offered her a hand. She angrily pushed it away and stood up by herself. She was very tempted to leave, but she wasn’t the type of person to give up that easily. She was just too damn stubborn. Hermione tentatively sat down next to Goyle, eyeing him warily. “Do you think you can control yourself?”

“I can wait... for now.”

Hermione figured that was the best she was going to get, so she settled herself down on the edge of her seat but this time held onto the table, just in case. Her ass really hurt. The waitress silently brought the firewhiskys and quickly left again.

Hermione glared at the drinks and then said, “I’m here because I’m looking for information on…”

“Malfoy,” finished Goyle.

Hermione was a little taken a back but pressed on. “You see, I’m interested in helping Malfoy out of his current situation, so I need to know…”

“You want us to sell out Malfoy,” interrupted Goyle.

“No, of course not. I just want to get to know the real Malfoy so that I can help him.”

“And how exactly are you going to help him?” asked Goyle.

“Well, I’m going to uh, um, well… that’s sort of confidential, and I really need the information first to ascertain the best method of help for him. You see…”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Pardon?”

“I said you are full of shit. You don’t care about Malfoy. You don’t want to help him. You want to help yourself. There’s something in it for you, isn’t there?”

“I think you are confusing me with a Slytherin. I’m a Gryffindor. Not everything is about me. I guess you wouldn’t understand that,” sneered Hermione. This was not going well, at all. Hermione was trying very hard to hold her temper.

“I understand more than you think I do,” replied Goyle.

Hermione waited for him to continue, but it seemed he had nothing else to say. He just sat there staring at her, making her more and more uncomfortable. He was absolutely impossible to talk to. She looked over at Crabbe to see if she could get something out of him, but he was still busy eating everything in sight. At least, he was keeping his hands to himself at the moment. However, it was obvious he was going to be absolutely useless. So, she turned back to Goyle. “And what exactly is it that you understand?”

“You. You think you are going to save him. You want to be a hero just like Potter. You don’t care about Malfoy, at all. He is just a means to an end. You are more Slytherin than you think.”

Hermione stared at Goyle in disbelief. How dare he call her a Slytherin. That was just wrong. Sure she wanted to save Malfoy, not that the fucking prick deserved it. It was just the right thing to do. She wasn’t thinking about herself. Much. Hermione decided that she really did not like Goyle. At all. “There are only two snakes at this table,” hissed Hermione.

Crabbe laughed at that and spit food all over the table. “Yeah, two really big snakes,” he said and then winked at her.

Hermione glared at him in disgust. However, she still liked him better than Goyle. Goyle was really starting to piss her off. Hermione stood up to leave. “I don’t think this is going anywhere. I’m sorry I wasted your time and mine.”

“Sit.”

Hermione sat. She didn’t know why she sat, but she sat. And she was really angry about it. How dare he treat her like a dog. How dare she act like a dog. Fucking Goyle. She was beginning to hate him more than Malfoy, and that was saying something. She crossed her arms and sent her most withering glare at him.

His eyes were still staring at her intently, but now they were laughing at her. “I thought you wanted information. Giving up so soon?”

“I thought you didn’t want to sell out your friend,” huffed Hermione.

“I only said that what you wanted us to do was sell out Malfoy. I never said anything about whether or not we would do it,” replied Goyle.

“So, you’re going to sell him out? I mean give me the information,” asked Hermione incredulously.

“You bet your ass we will,” said Crabbe. “The fucking bastard made us wear tights. We had to stand outside that room for hours as fucking girls. Almost had to take sixth year over because of that fucking prick. That fuck head deserves what he gets. It’s going to kill him that we talked to you, of all people, about him. He’s going to fucking shit. Asshole.”

Hermione stared at Crabbe dumbfounded. She was completely shocked by that statement, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of what he said or that he had used so many words.

She turned to Goyle and this time he really was smiling. “You like games, Granger?” he asked, pushing the firewhisky in front of her.


	12. Slytherin Studies

Still one week earlier...

“What kind of game?” asked Hermione somewhat fearfully, unable to take her eyes off the firewhisky now in front of her. Truth be told, Hermione had never, in her life, drank anything stronger than a butterbeer and had no idea how she would react to it. What if she ended up dancing on the tables? Or worse, what if she ended up sleeping with Crabbe or Goyle? Or worse yet, Crabbe and Goyle? Ooh, she did not just think that. No one could ever get that drunk, could they? Still, she wished it wasn’t Crabbe and Goyle that she was going to have her first alcohol related experience with. There was no telling what stupid ass game they had come up with. It was Crabbe and Goyle, for goodness sake. It would probably be something perverted.

“We thought up a game especially for you. A study game,” said Goyle. And he actually said it with a straight face. He couldn’t be serious. Studying with Crabbe and Goyle? That had to be a joke. It had joke written all over it. However, she doubted very much that Goyle actually had a sense of humor. Of course, there were some (okay a lot) who would say the very same thing about her. Bastards. 

“You want to study? With me?” she asked incredulously. She definitely would not have guessed that. For studying with Hermione Granger was not for the faint of heart. Even Harry and Ron didn’t want to study with her. She could be a real taskmaster or as Ron liked to say, “a real bitch.” She had been thinking Crabbe and Goyle would come up with some idiotic kind of game like spin the bottle or truth or dare. Something more like what an idiot would come up with.

“Like Crabbe said, because of Malfoy, we almost had to stay back a year. McGonagall wouldn’t pass us until we proved we learned enough to keep up with the work in seventh year. We’ve somehow managed to test out of every class except Potion's. It seems, there is a new Potion’s professor this year because that wuss Slughorn went into hiding after Dumbledore was killed. McGonagall wouldn’t say who it was, but he sounds like a real prick. We have to test through him personally. That’s why we came up with a study game. You are going to help us pass.”

“What’s in it for me?” asked Hermione.

“Ah, there’s the Slytherin in you. Well, you want to know about Malfoy, right? All you have to do is stump us with a sixth year Potion's question, and we’ll tell you whatever you want to know. The Potion's questions have to be from Slughorn’s class, nothing from your extracurricular reading. We want to pass, not become Potions Masters. We get one minute to answer with the notes. For every question we miss, we’ll take a drink and answer truthfully to anything you ask us.”

Hermione looked at the notes that were now in front of them. She could hardly read them, for they both had atrocious penmanship, but there weren’t very many pages, and she figured they probably took crap notes, anyway. “How do I know that you’ll answer truthfully?”

“You can do a truth spell,” replied Goyle. 

“What’s in it for you?” asked Hermione warily.

“Ah, thank you for asking. Well, besides passing our Potion’s exam, we thought we might have a little fun along the way. All studying and no play make very dull boys, you know. So, for every question we get right, you take a drink and remove a piece of clothing. Kind of like an incentive for us working so hard,” answered Goyle.

“We like to call it strip studying,” grinned Crabbe.

Hermione didn’t know quite what to say to that. No, wait a minute. Yes, she did. “There is no way in hell that I am playing strip studying with you! Are you out of your minds?” cried Hermione, outraged at the very thought. That was almost sacrilege. Leave it to Crabbe and Goyle to turn studying into something perverted.

“Do you want your questions answered or not?” asked Goyle.

“Yes, but I’m not stripping for it! I already agreed to kiss you. Believe me, that is a high enough price to pay.”

“Look at it this way; this is your opportunity to get out of kissing us. Stump us with a question; we drink. Get us drunk enough, we pass out. No kiss. You’re off the hook. Besides, it’s not as though you aren’t wearing enough clothing.” 

Hermione thought about this. It did go in with her original plan of getting them so drunk they couldn’t kiss her. And she really did not want to kiss them. And she really was wearing a God-awful amount of clothing. She was getting so warm in fact that she might even start with an easy question just so she could take off Mrs. Weasley’s horrid orange jumper. There was really no way they could answer enough questions that she would run out of clothing. It was Crabbe and Goyle, after all. They’d be lucky to answer her easy questions. Hermione would have never thought it of herself, but she was actually considering playing something called strip studying. And with Crabbe and Goyle, of all people.

“I don’t know,” hedged Hermione. “It’s not very fair, is it? I’ve never had a drink in my life, and you two lushes could probably drink my body weight and not even feel it. If anyone’s going to pass out, it will probably be me. I think the odds are stacked in your favor.”

“Alright, if we miss a question, instead of taking just a drink of firewhisky, we’ll take a whole shot. How about that?"

“I’m still not sure about this. How do I know this isn’t some kind of trick?” asked Hermione. She did not trust Slytherins. At all. And Goyle had already tricked her once with the whole kissing thing. She wasn’t kissing them and getting naked. That was just stupid.

“I told you she’d be too scared, Goyle. Bloody Gryffindors and their so-called bravery. They’re not so fucking brave when Slytherins are around, are they? She might act like a know-it-all bitch with her hand stuck up in the air all of the time, but she knows a dirty Mudblood like her could never win against pure-bloods like us,” said Crabbe maliciously.

Hermione was fuming. He just called her a Mudblood, that stupid prick. And Gryffindors were too brave. In fact, she could feel the Gryffindor bravery about to get her into trouble, right about now. “I’ll play your stupid little game, you stupid fuck, and I’m going to kick your ass,” said Hermione, leaning across the table and jabbing her finger into Crabbe’s rock-like shoulder.

Crabbe grinned over at Goyle. “You were right. That was easy. For the so called smartest witch of our year, she sure is a sucker.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. If looks could kill, Hermione Granger would be shooting Avada Kedavras at Crabbe and Goyle right out of her eyeballs for that Slytherin shit they had just pulled. Those fucking bastards. Those fucking Slytherin bastards. Outsmarted by Crabbe and Goyle. Unfuckingbelievable. “Shut up, Crabbe. I’m still going to kick your sorry Slytherin ass.”

“Bring it, baby,” taunted Crabbe.

“You are so going down,” replied Hermione and then for emphasis, she took a big gulp of firewhisky. She looked pretty tough, for all about two seconds, before she immediately started choking on it. Crabbe started laughing uproariously at the sight of her choking, and Goyle started pounding her hard on the back. Between the firewhisky and Goyle, she wasn’t sure which would kill her first. Firewhisky was absolutely horrid. She had no idea why people drank the stuff. Her throat was on fire, and she was getting so warm, she felt slightly dizzy. So, she did the only sensible thing she could think of. She took off her jumper.

“You know,” said Goyle, “you can ask us a question first. Not that we don’t like your way of playing. It does move things along.” Then he pointed his wand at her jumper and said, “Evanesco”.

Hermione stared in horror as her jumper vanished. “What the hell was that for?”

“Once it’s off, it stays off.”

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest. They hadn’t even started playing, and she already sucked at this game. Whatever. She hated that stupid jumper anyway, and it wasn’t like she would be losing any more clothes. “Okay, first question. When brewing a Draught of Living Death potion, what colors should the potion turn after the halfway stage?

“Ha!” yelled Crabbe. “Purple, then clear. In your face, Granger!”

“Ooh, sorry, Crabbe. The correct answer would be blackcurrant, lilac and then clear. Better luck next time, sucker,” said Hermione, smiling sweetly. 

“That’s the same fucking thing, and you know it, you bitch,” exclaimed Crabbe angrily. He wanted to see some clothing tossed. 

“Sorry, I can’t accept half ass answers. Goyle said the new Potion’s professor is a total prick. I’m sure he wouldn’t accept half ass answers either. I’m only trying to do you a favor. So, drink the fuck up and tell me. Is Malfoy a Death Eater?”

“Don’t know,” shrugged Goyle, taking a drink in one gulp.

Hermione waited for Goyle to elaborate. He did not. “I agreed to play strip studying for that crap answer?”

“Like you would have agreed, if we hadn’t tricked you,” sneered Crabbe.

“Go to hell, Crabbe. What is Felix Felicis?”

Goyle answered this question. “It’s a good luck potion. So, what’s it going to be, Granger? Shirt or pants?”

“Sock,” said Hermione bitterly, throwing it in his face.

“Drink,” said Goyle.

Hermione took as little a sip as possible and made a face. It was so horrible; she could barely drink it. “There.”

“I said drink, not wear it as lip-gloss.” 

Hermione glared at Goyle. Crabbe laughed and lifted his glass in salute and drank with her. He obviously didn’t care whether it was his turn to drink or not, but Hermione immediately started choking again. She hated firewhisky, as well as the two doofuses that were forcing her to consume the vile drink. Would they really put her in Azkaban, if she killed Crabbe and Goyle?

When Hermione recovered, she asked, “Why is it important not to drink too much of a Felix Felicis potion?”

Goyle answered again. “Too much will make you reckless and dangerous. Too much will kill you.” Goyle pointed his wand at Hermione’s other sock and said, “Evanesco. Drink.”

Hermione scowled but then drank and only coughed a little bit this time. She was feeling extremely warm and unconsciously unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt. Goyle glanced down at it, but Crabbe didn’t seem to even notice.

“I wish I would have won that Felix Felicis from Slughorn’s class,” said Crabbe bitterly. “Unlike Potter, I would have known what to do if I got lucky.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” muttered Hermione, thinking her and her friends probably would have died in that skirmish with the Death Eaters without the Felix Felicis Harry had given them. And she really didn’t want to think about Crabbe getting “lucky” either. Gross.

“Fucking Potter always wins everything. Like he doesn’t have enough luck as it is,” sulked Crabbe.

“Yeah, it’s real lucky having Voldemort trying to kill you everyday of your life,” retorted Hermione. She noticed that neither Crabbe nor Goyle flinched at the sound of his name, but they did give each other a look. Interesting.

“I was talking about Quidditch,” mumbled Crabbe.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Is that all boys ever thought about? Then Hermione blushed when she thought about what kind of game they were playing. Well, maybe they had one other thing on their minds. “What is a bezoar?”

Crabbe and Goyle both started looking through their notes. Ha! She had stumped them this time, but then Goyle found something and said, “A bezoar is a stone from a goat’s stomach.”

Hermione couldn’t keep the grin off of her face. They did have crap notes. “Wrong!” she practically sang. “A bezoar is actually a hairball in the goat’s stomach that only looks like a kidney-like stone. Drink! So, are you two thugs Death Eaters?” Hermione figured she might want to know this information since it seemed she would be spending the whole evening with them, possibly drunk.

“We agreed to answer questions about Malfoy, not us,” said Goyle.

“No, actually you agreed to answer truthfully to any question that I asked. And now I’m asking if you two are Death Eaters.”

“No,” they both replied, not very happy that Hermione could ask them personal questions. It was one thing to tell her things about Malfoy, quite another to have to tell her things about themselves.

“Are you planning on becoming Death Eaters?”

“Too many questions,” said Goyle.

“Humph! What is Amortentia?”

“The most powerful love potion in the world. Drink,” answered Goyle before Crabbe could get his answer out. 

She grudgingly took a drink. Hermione was not happy. Goyle was getting too many questions right. She hadn’t gotten any good questions about Malfoy answered yet, and she was starting to feel woozy. And she had run out of socks.

“Want me to choose?” asked Crabbe smiling lasciviously at her. 

“No. I can do it myself,” huffed Hermione. She couldn’t decide if she should take off her shirt or her pants. She wanted to take off her pants since her legs were under the table anyway, and she still had her skirt on, but she wasn’t sure how to take them off without giving Goyle too much of a peep show, as he was sitting right next to her. She slid down in the booth so that most of her body was under the table and carefully wriggled down her pants. Goyle was watching her closely clearly amused at her efforts. This was so embarrassing.

Then Crabbe poked his head under the table and said, “Hey, while you’re under there, can you give me a…”

“No!” said Hermione, getting up so quickly that she banged her head on the table and nearly sat in Goyle’s lap.

“Here, let me help you,” said Goyle as he quickly used his wand to vanish the pants hanging around her ankles. 

“Gee, thanks Goyle. I might even call you a gentleman if it weren’t for the fact that you were taking off my fucking clothes.” Hermione was getting a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol she was consuming or if it had something to do with the fact that Goyle was undressing her. She cleared her throat and asked, “What does Amortentia smell like?”

Goyle looked over at Crabbe and nodded for him to answer. Crabbe said. “It smells like turkey with gravy, roast beef and pork chops…"

“Amortentia smells like meat to you?” interrupted Hermione, slightly fascinated and disgusted at the same time.

“And cake,” said Crabbe.

“Crabbe you are such a freak. Unfortunately, I cannot accept your brilliantly fucked up answer, as it does not smell like meat and cake to everyone or anyone normal for that matter. The correct answer would be that Amortentia smells different to different people according to what attracts them. Obviously, you are attracted to meat.”

“And cake,” added Goyle.

“Oh, and what does it smell like to you, Granger? Weasel?” sneered Crabbe. “And I already know what it smells like to you, Goyle, so you can shut the fuck up.”

Hermione didn’t like the weasel crack. She didn’t want to go there. “Drink up, loser. And you too, Goyle.” She wasn’t quite sure why she hadn’t lumped Goyle into the loser category, as well, but in all fairness he had gotten a couple of questions right. She wondered what Amortentia smelled like to Goyle, but she asked, “What does Malfoy do over the summer months when he’s not in school?”

“His parents throw these really boring parties that we have to go to, too. They’re afraid he won’t pick a wife that’s a pure-blood. So, basically they’re kind of like blind dates. Malfoy hates them. Who the fuck wants your parents picking out your future wife? Most of the summer, we hang out in Diagon Alley and have a bit of fun with the younger kids. Scare them a little bit. Let them know who's going to be running things when they get to Hogwarts. When he’s on his own, Malfoy listens to Muggle music. His Dad would freak, if he found out.” 

Crabbe sure got really chatty the more he drank. “How long does one dose of Polyjuice Potion last?”

“An hour,” they both said in unison. 

Shit! Of course they knew that. They took the fucking potion all last year. Hermione started to panic. Her heart was racing. She was running out of clothes to take off. Well, ones that she was willing to take off, anyway. This was starting to get embarrassing. She didn’t want either of them deciding for her though, so she quickly took off a shoe and threw it at Crabbe, clunking him in the head.

“Ow, you bitch. That hurt. And shoes do not count,” said Crabbe rubbing his forehead.

“That’s arguable,” replied Hermione.

Goyle rolled his eyes at the two of them and pointed his wand at Hermione. She closed her eyes, expecting the worst, but was surprised when she felt her other shoe vanish. “We’ll compromise,” he stated. Hermione was so relieved; she took a big gulp of firewhiskey without even being told. It wasn’t really so bad once you got used to it. She felt kind of fuzzy.

“How long does Veritaserum take to mature?” Hermione looked at their faces and was pleased to see their blank expressions. That was the Crabbe and Goyle she knew and loved. Scratch that. That was the Crabbe and Goyle she was slightly acquainted with and did not like. At all. Not even a little bit. God, she had only had a few drinks, and she was already getting loopy.

Crabbe decided to venture a guess. “An hour?”

“Way the fuck off, Crabbe. It takes a full moon-cycle. Drink up boys and then tell me Malfoy’s biggest secret.” This game was kind of fun. When she was winning that is.

Crabbe and Goyle both took a drink, but it was Goyle that answered the question. “He doesn’t exactly share the same views as his father.” 

Hermione wished Crabbe had answered the question. Goyle hardly gave any information at all. “And what views are those?” 

“Too many questions. You can risk another piece of clothing, but I think you can answer it for yourself,” replied Goyle.

Hermione thought about it. He must mean his views on Muggles and Muggleborns, but what did he mean by “exactly”? And if Malfoy didn’t hate Muggles and Muggleborns like his father, then why did he hate her so much? She had never done anything to him. Well, she did punch him in the face in third year, but he deserved that. Hermione had too many questions she wanted to ask and not enough clothing left. She should have asked about his biggest secret first. Finding out what he did in the summer sounded rather stupid now.

“What color steam is released by a correctly brewed Draught of Living Death?”

“Blue,” said Goyle.

“Off with the shirt, bitch,” said Crabbe, gleefully taking yet another drink.

“Fuck off, Crabbe.”

“I might. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Crabbe smirked.

Hermione glared, but started slowly unbuttoning her shirt. She half expected Goyle to vanish it for her, but he just watched her undo button after button. Crabbe was, of course, being a complete ass, but it was Goyle that was making her nervous. She felt like she had crazy, drunk ass butterflies flying while intoxicated in her stomach. Why didn’t he just vanish it already?

“Hurry up, Granger. We don’t have all fucking night,” Crabbe said impatiently.

“Don’t let me keep you,” said Hermione dryly, finally sliding the shirt off her shoulders.

“Geez Granger. You have another fucking shirt on,” said Crabbe, clearly disappointed. He took another drink, got a funny smile on his face and then went face first into his plate of food. His head immediately sprang back up and he said, “I’m okay. What did I miss?”

Hermione started giggling. “You have a chip stuck on your forehead.” She watched him pick off the chip and pop it in his mouth like nothing happened. Hermione then took her drink. Firewhiskey really wasn’t so bad, after all. It was kind of growing on her. Well, she was no longer choking on it, at least.

“How do you prepare the sopophorus beans for a Draught of Living Death potion?”

“Chop it,” said Goyle giving her a knowing look and raising his eyebrows as if waiting for her to do something.

“Is he right?” asked Crabbe. “I bet you don’t have anther fucking shirt on under that.”

“You know,” said Hermione stalling for time. “It’s more effective if you crush it with the flat side of a silver dagger. You get more juice that way.” Before they left school, Hermione had snuck into the Room of Requirement and taken Harry’s Potion's book that had belonged to Snape. She had read it cover to cover and had learned some really amazing things. She still hadn’t told Harry about it. He was going to give her a lot of shit about it since she had been so against him using the book last year.

“I told you, we weren’t interested in your extracurricular reading,” said Goyle.

“I know, but I bet it would impress that prick of a Potion's Professor,” said Hermione.

“Maybe, but you still have to take something off and take a drink,” said Goyle.

Hermione was in panic mode. She was down to a shirt, a skirt and her underclothes. How did she let it get this far? And she still hadn’t really gotten all that much information on Malfoy. Those two fuckers weren’t as stupid as they looked. She still had to get home, so she really didn’t want to take off her shirt or skirt because it did not seem like Goyle was giving anything back. So, it had to be either her bra or knickers. She decided on her bra because it didn’t seem like a good idea to take off her knickers around Goyle. Or Crabbe. Why had she forgotten about Crabbe? So, Hermione carefully maneuvered herself to pull her bra out of her sleeve without Crabbe or Goyle getting a peek at anything. Ha! 

“What the fuck? I didn’t get to see anything!” complained Crabbe, grabbing her bra away from her. He was holding it up to himself trying to figure out how she had taken it off without removing her shirt. Crabbe was now completely drunk off his ass. Goyle seemed to notice it to.

She watched Crabbe trying to put on her bra and couldn’t help giggling. He was definitely an idiot, but he wasn’t really so disgusting now that she really thought about it. He was just, well, Crabbe. Then she looked over at Goyle who was sitting much closer to her than she had remembered. And Goyle was, well… Oh my God. Goyle was… attractive in that strong silent type kind of way. Shit! She found Goyle attractive? Fuck! She was so fucking drunk. She was totally completely drunk off her fucking ass. She picked up her whole glass of firewhiskey and downed it in one gulp. It immediately filled back up. Great, self-filling cups. She was so fucked. And distracted, or she wouldn’t have asked the question she did. “How do you prepare the boomslang skin in a Polyjuice Potion?” Shit! Why the fuck had she asked another Polyjuice Question?

“Goyle answered, “Chop it.”

“Goyle, you fucker. You missed that on purpose. It’s shredded. It’s fucking shredded, and you know it.”

Goyle just shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, the correct answer is shredded,” said Hermione, smiling widely, completely ignoring Crabbe. 

“I knew it was shredded,” grumbled Crabbe.

“Sure you did, dumb ass,” said Hermione. “Why does Malfoy hate me if it’s not because I am a Muggleborn?”

“Why else? Because you’re a stuck up know-it-all bitch with a stick up your ass,” said Crabbe. 

“Shut up, Crabbe. You’re just mad because you suck.”

“Well, how about you? Do you suck, Granger?”

“I suck at this game.”

“Yeah, you really do.”

“Fuck you, Crabbe.”

“Back at you, Granger.”

“Isn’t somebody supposed to drink or something?”

“I think it’s your turn.”

“Okay.”

“Sucker!”

“Crabbe, you fucker!”

“Hey, drunk and drunker. Are we still playing or what?” asked Goyle.

“We’re not playing until Crabbe takes his drink,” huffed Hermione.

“Take the fucking drink, Crabbe,” said Goyle.

“You’re the one who fucked it up,” said Crabbe, glaring at him.

“I drank on all of the ones you fucked up,” returned Goyle.

“Yeah, but you did it on purpose. You’re a selfish ass. We’re just getting to the good stuff, and you know it.”

“What? Can’t handle another drink, Crabbe?” asked Goyle, smirking a bit.

“You shit!” yelled Crabbe, glaring at Goyle and then slamming back his drink. Hermione watched as his eyes rolled back in his head and then he completely keeled over to the side, falling right out of his seat. 

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock as she looked at Crabbe passed out on the floor. She then looked over at Goyle and whispered, “What the fuck?”

Goyle was still smirking. “One down.”

Oh. My. God. Goyle had just taken his best friend out of the game. It was just him and Hermione now. She had a feeling she should quit playing while she still had a little dignity left, but she had one question she was dying to ask Goyle. “What color is the Felix Felicis potion?”

“Gold.”

“Sorry, Goyle. The correct answer is the color of molten gold. That slight distinction in the variation of color is most significant to a successful potion, so therefore, I cannot give it to you.”

“I see. What’s your question?” asked Goyle, taking a drink.

“What does Amortentia smell like to you?” asked Hermione quietly.

Hermione thought she saw the corners of his mouth go up as he looked into her eyes and answered, “vanilla.”

Hermione caught her breath and asked, “Why?”

Goyle leaned in so close she felt sure he would kiss her. She closed her eyes and then heard him say softly in her ear, “Too many questions.”

Hermione only had one rational thought left in her head, but her mind and body did not seem to want to listen. So, she asked Goyle another question. “What color is the Polyjuice Potion?”

Goyle smiled. “A murky brown.”

Hermione took a drink. She couldn’t believe she had just done that. She was so nervous. She stood up and tried to bring up enough courage to do what she had to do, but then she looked at Goyle. “I can’t do it. Just use your wand.”

Goyle stood up in front of her and pointed his wand at her. Hermione closed her eyes and prepared herself for the soft woosh of the Evanesco spell. However, her eyes snapped open as she felt the tip of his wand slowly trail up her leg. She silently watched as he lifted her skirt up using only his wand, hooked it into the top of her knickers and then slowly started pulling them down. Hermione could only stand and stare as Goyle worked his magic on her. When he had her knickers completely off of her, he stuffed them into his pocket and said, “I know you’re asking all of these questions about Malfoy for a reason. I suspect you got stuck with him, and you’ll be playing house with him this summer. Despite what Crabbe said, Malfoy doesn't hate you. In fact, he probably has a thing for you and when Malfoy wants something, he gets it. He can be an ass at times and he’s very competitive and has a temper, but he can be charming. He’s a lot like you, really. You two will make quite a pair.”

“Malfoy and I will never be a pair.”

“I’d be willing to make a bet on that. You and Malfoy will hook up sooner or later. Of course, it will be satisfying to know that I got there first.” And before she knew it, Goyle’s mouth was covering hers and capturing her in a passionate kiss that made her melt into his strong arms. She felt warm and safe in his embrace yet at the same time felt the need to do something completely reckless. And she did. She wrapped her legs around him and kissed him back so feverishly that he had to come up for air. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked, breathing heavily and looking deep into her eyes.

“Too many questions,” she replied breathlessly and pulled him back into the kiss. With her wrapped around him, he stepped over Crabbe and laid her gently down on the table and then proceeded to snog her senseless. Goyle pushed all thought and reason right out of her head. She was living for the moment, and it was one hell of a moment. She was feeling things in places that would have made her blush had she been capable of thinking about it. Goyle knew exactly what to do. Oh my God. She was totally snogging Goyle, and he was fucking fantastic! She could feel her body trembling under his touch. In fact, she was completely shaking all over.

She opened her eyes to find Malfoy sitting on top of her shaking her by her shoulders. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Malfoy? Get off of me!” Now was not the time to have Malfoy on top of her, not that there was a good time for that, but she could still feel herself slightly trembling.

Malfoy didn’t move though. He looked really angry. “You were fucking dreaming about him, weren’t you? You were dreaming about fucking Goyle.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Malfoy. I was dreaming about studying.” That was totally true.

“Oh really? And does studying usually give you an orgasm?”

“Sometimes.”


	13. Truth Tourette’s

Malfoy looked at her, slightly stunned by her admission, but then burst into laughter. “Only you could get an orgasm from studying, Granger.”

“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised,” said Hermione coolly, not looking at him. He was still on top of her, and she still hadn’t quite recovered from her earlier reminisces. She felt all flushed.

“Name one other person,” said Malfoy skeptically.

“I’d rather not. Besides, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Potter?”

“No.”

“Weasel?”

“No.”

“Longbottom?”

“No!”

“Well, I know it’s not Crabbe or Goyle. As if they would study. I know, that Hufflepuff McMiller.”

“Ernie Macmillan? Well, yes he might, but I wouldn’t know anything about that. Now, get off! You’re making me...”

“Get off?” asked Malfoy mischievously.

“Yes. No!” she quickly amended, catching his meaning. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get off,” said Malfoy smirking. “Just not yet.”

“Why? What are you up to?” asked Hermione, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. In fact, I think we’ll find out all kinds of interesting things,” said Malfoy.

Hermione did not like the sound of that, but she didn’t want to show fear yet. “Well, I hope you at least read the directions this time.”

“I told you, only bloody know-it-alls read directions.”

“Yes, thus the reason why we know it all, you idiot.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that I will soon know it all, anyway, regardless of whether or not I read the directions.”

“I swear, Malfoy. If anything comes out of any part of my body, I will aim it straight at your big, fat Slytherin head. And I won’t feel the least bit sorry for you if your head explodes into a million pieces.”

“The only way I’m going to explode is from laughing so hard.”

“I’m really not in the mood for your petty little games, Malfoy. Why don’t you just go…” Hiccup! Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise as she watched a bubble come out of her mouth and float up in front of Malfoy’s face.

Malfoy pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and read it aloud. “'Truth Bubbles. Sometimes the truth hurts, and sometimes it’s just plain funny. Enjoy some sidesplitting laughs at the expense of your friends or enemies. Just one drop and pop, the truth comes out. Have fun revealing your deepest, most embarrassing secrets. Great icebreaker for parties or a fun get to know you with future lovers. For mature wizards only.' There, I read the directions. Happy?”

This was not good. This was so not good. “No, not really,” she sighed, reluctantly accepting the fact that she was going to suffer even more humiliation at the hands of her number one enemy. Yes, she felt quite certain at this very moment that Voldemort was coming in at a strong number four - right behind Malfoy, Fred and George respectively. She tried to tell herself she should be grateful that it was just embarrassing secrets she was going to tell because then she wouldn’t have to worry about Malfoy finding out about the Horcruxes. It was the self-sacrificing way to look at it after all. God, it sucked being a martyr. And it really sucked being a babysitter. She was never babysitting another brat again. Fucking Malfoy. “Of course, the directions do say for mature wizards only. I highly doubt you qualify,“ she quipped.

“As if the dumb asses that created this are any more mature than I am.”

“Too true, unfortunately,” Hermione conceded. “I can’t believe those assholes used Veritaserum in a joke product. I’m going to fucking kill them when I see them. Of course, I will use them to help me get my revenge on you first.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared, Granger. Are you going to turn me into a Weasley next?”

“That would be a start. I’m sure you would just love having your precious hair turned red. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.”

Malfoy glared at Hermione and silently cursed himself. Then in his anger, he popped the bubble.

Hermione felt an odd sensation, and she knew what she was going to say before it came out of her mouth, but she couldn’t stop it, although she tried really, really hard. Fuck! “I went on a date with Neville,” she said in a rush. Oh, my God. She hadn’t even told Harry or Ron about that. She was never going to live this down. Never.

“You went on a date with Longbottom? I knew this would be good,” said Malfoy laughing. “Did he put the moves on you?”

“He asked me out our third year, and I didn’t know how to say no, so I said yes. And it was one of the most painfully awkward nights of my life. His grandmother came with us as a chaperone, and the whole night she barked orders at Neville and told him what he was doing wrong. And then at the end of the date, she made us kiss. And he used his tongue. It was my first kiss. And Neville’s grandmother watched us the whole time and then told us we did it all wrong. She gave us some pointers and made us do it again. It wasn’t much of a success the second time either. Neville and I never went on another date again. And we absolutely do not discuss it. Ever.” 

Hermione turned a brilliant shade of pink after giving Malfoy such a detailed and lengthy description of her date with Neville. Why had she felt the need to explain herself? She felt compelled to give him every last detail, and it just made it even worse. Right about now, laying eggs didn’t seen so bad. She would gladly lay another dozen, if she didn’t have to reveal another embarrassing secret about herself. And the Neville thing was just the beginning. She had a horrible feeling the secrets got worse each time.

“Oh, did I forget to read you the side effects?” asked Malfoy innocently, pulling out the paper again. “Side effects may include headache, nausea and verbal diarrhea of the mouth.”

“Charming,” said Hermione dryly. She didn’t want Malfoy having the satisfaction of knowing that he was getting to her. She just had to get through this and get rid of these damn hiccups. Luckily, she knew several Muggle remedies for getting rid of the hiccups. Sometimes, it really came in handy being a Muggle-born. She promptly held her breath.

“What the fuck are you doing, Granger?”

Hermione glared at him with puffed out cheeks but continued holding her breath. 

“Stop that. Why aren’t you hiccupping?” he asked angrily.

Hermione continued to hold her breath but managed a smirk.

“Oh, no you don’t,” said Malfoy. She was not getting off so easily. He had a feeling she had a lot more secrets to tell. And he wanted to hear every single one of them, especially about Goyle. Yes, he was dying to hear about Goyle. Malfoy leaned in close to her face so that their lips were nearly touching. Her eyes widened slightly, but she continued holding her breath. Then he whispered in her ear, “Rictusempra” and then to her horror, he started tickling her. The Muggle way.

Hermione let go of her breath and burst into a fit of giggles. She couldn’t help it. Not only was Hermione extremely ticklish, but she also found it extremely funny that Malfoy of all people was tickling her. It seemed like a very un-Malfoyish thing to do. However, he was doing a fairly thorough job of it, and Hermione found herself gasping for breath and writhing around uncontrollably beneath him. Then at the exact same moment, they both froze and stared at each other in shock and something quite similar to horror. Hermione was suddenly struck with the thought that perhaps Goyle was right, and Malfoy didn’t hate her as much as she thought. After all, little Draco didn’t seem to mind her at all. She couldn’t suppress her smirk until she hiccupped, that is. Malfoy immediately popped the bubble. Shit!

“I kissed Harry Potter.”

“You kissed fucking Potter?”

“We were studying,” began Hermione.

“Geez, Granger. Is studying some kind of aphrodisiac to you?”

“Shut up, Malfoy. I’m having verbal diarrhea again, and I don’t need your interruptions. Like I said, we were studying, and I don’t know what came over me.”

“Probably an orgasm.”

Hermione glared but continued. She had to. “I think it was because of Ron. He was snogging Lavender all over the place, and I was really jealous because I have a crush on Ron.”

“You like the Weasel?”

“Yes,” said Hermione through clenched teeth. “I thought he would ask me out but then he asked out Lavender instead, and then they insisted on flaunting their grotesque relationship in front of my face. Ron and I got in a big fight over it, and so I was spending a lot of alone time with Harry. We were studying one evening in the common room; and we saw Ron and Lavender sneak out together to go off and snog. I was so angry. I wanted to get even, and so I kissed Harry. He was so caught off guard that I don’t think he even kissed me back. He had such a strange look on his face that I thought he was going to be sick. I ran up to my room in complete embarrassment. Harry has never mentioned anything about it to me, but he still gives me strange looks whenever we study together.”

“You made Potter sick by kissing him? Priceless.” Malfoy laughed.

“He didn’t actually get sick. I just said he looked sick,” grumbled Hermione. Then she stuck her tongue in between her teeth and her upper lip. She didn’t care in the slightest if she looked completely stupid.

“Now, what the hell are you doing? You look like a monkey.”

“Uh unh uh unh.”

“What?”

Hermione removed her tongue from between her teeth and lip so she could speak properly. “A Muggle trick. To get rid of hiccups. Muggles don’t need a wand. There are several remedies I can use to get rid of these horrible hiccups.”

“Well, use a different one. You look fucking stupid.”

“Like I care what you think. You can go to…” Hiccup! 

Malfoy looked at the bubble, gloating. “Looks like your Muggle hiccup remedies are just a load of crap. I wonder what juicy secret you are going to spill next? Maybe it will be about Goyle,“ said Malfoy snidely, holding his finger dangerously close to the bubble taunting her.

There, he finally said it. Hermione had had a feeling this whole thing was about Goyle. Humiliating her in the process was just an added bonus. Well, he was not finding out about Goyle if she could help it. She didn’t care what she had to do. She’d do anything short of something illegal. And she might even do something illegal if it was just a technicality. She couldn’t stand him looking so smug. “Fuck you, Malfoy.” His taunting was driving her crazy, so she popped the fucking bubble herself. 

Of course, then she was very sorry she had been so impulsive because the words that were about to spill out of her mouth were so horrible she felt sure she would die of humiliation and perhaps even vomit in the process. “I have sex dreams about Snape.”

“Shit, Granger. You are full of surprises.”

Hermione closed her eyes. This was not happening. She did not just say she had sex dreams about Snape. There were so many other embarrassing secrets she could tell. Why this one? “Sometimes I dream about him at night but most of the time I daydream about him in class. When he turns those piercing eyes on me, I feel like he is looking into my soul. When he’s writing on the chalkboard, I watch his hands and wonder what they would feel like touching my body. When he speaks, his velvety voice makes me quiver inside. When he reprimands me for being a know-it-all, I can hear him saying, ‘Hermione, you’ve been a bad, bad girl,’ in his slow sexy voice. When he criticizes my perfect potion, I imagine him roughly sweeping away the potion to the floor with the back of his hand and taking me right then and there on my desk. If he wasn’t a killer, I would totally do him.” 

Malfoy was completely and utterly speechless. What was there to say, really?

“Oh, my God,” said Hermione slowly. The verbal diarrhea had thankfully passed, but Hermione still felt the need to explain the unexplainable. Malfoy was being oddly silent, and she was having difficulty coming to terms with what she had just said. It so wasn’t true. She did not want to have sex with Snape. He was a bastard. A Slytherin bastard. An old Slytherin bastard, no less. So, she started to ramble on aimlessly. “I maybe had that fantasy once or twice tops. I don’t know why I said all of that. I don’t really want to have sex with Snape. No, of course not. I mean he’s so much older and probably very experienced in the way of things such as that. While he is intelligent which is a very important quality, I would say, he is completely horrible in every other respect. Of course he does have that whole dark and mysterious danger thing going for him, which some girls may fancy. And his voice is kind of sexy, but other than that, I find him in no way attractive. His eyes, maybe but…” 

“Shut up, Granger. You’re going to make me throw up.”

“Yeah well, join the club,” muttered Hermione. She was not happy with Malfoy. The truth sucked. She felt it was completely overrated, in fact. In her head, at least, it was now all Malfoy’s fault that she had had any impure thoughts about Snape. As if she would shag a Slytherin. Oh, shit! What was she thinking? Of course, she would totally shag a Slytherin. Had she totally forgotten recent events! That thought made her swallow hard and luckily that reminded her of another Muggle remedy because she had to get rid of these hiccups and fast. Because shagging Slytherins is not what she should be thinking about right now. Definitely not. The remedy she thought of was taking ten sips of water while holding your breath. Since she didn’t have any water, she decided to just start swallowing.

“I guess that answers that,” said Malfoy

“What?” asked Hermione.

“You swallow.”

“Excuse me?”

“You. Swallow.” The words slowly rolled off Malfoy’s tongue as he stared intently down at her. 

Fuck! He had sexy Slytherin eyes too. Hiccup!

Malfoy smiled. “What’s it going to be this time? Are you going to profess your undying love for McGonagall?” asked Malfoy, popping the bubble.

“Goyle has a pair of my knickers.” Oh shit!

Malfoy’s smile disappeared. “He what?”

“I said that Goyle has a pair of my knickers. We got drunk. He was very creative with his wand. He stuffed my knickers in his pocket. He said you didn’t hate me and that we would probably hook up. I said no way. He said it would be satisfying to know he got there first. And then we…” Oh, my God. She was so not finishing that sentence. Malfoy would totally shit if he knew what happened that night. So, Hermione decided to do the only sensible thing she could think of to shut herself up... kiss him.


	14. Muggle Magic

She didn’t have much time. Those dreadful words could not be stopped for long without some sort of intervention. Her eyes darted around the room frantically for any kind of inspiration that would save her from the truth, but all she could focus on were his lips. They were so close. It would be so easy. She knew it would work. Ugh, was that the best idea she could come up with? She contemplated about just letting him hear the whole truth and getting it over with. Would it be much worse than having to kiss the ferret? But as she continued to stare at his lips, she suddenly realized that at that very moment they weren’t smirking at her, and that is what made her decision. 

So, out of sheer desperation, Hermione wrapped her arms around Malfoy’s neck and pulled him in close. He looked surprised. And something else. She wasn’t sure what it was, but he didn’t look too repulsed by what she was about to do. And he knew what she was going to do. She could see the fire blazing in his eyes. He could definitely stop her if he really wanted to. There was no reason for him to stay so close to her face. All he had to do was lean back away from her. Then there would be no hope. He would discover her horrible secret, and she would die of humiliation. Die. 

However, he didn’t back away. So, before she could chicken out (and she did not want to have anything to do with chickens ever again!), she pressed her mouth firmly to his. And she didn’t stop there. This was so not going to be a Neville kiss. If she was going to do this, she was really going to do this. Because no matter what happened, it would never be as awful as what she had just been about to tell Malfoy. And besides, she never did anything half ass. The moment her mouth made contact with his, the words she so dreaded saying instantly died on her lips and a shiver went up her spine. Oh, my God. She was totally kissing Malfoy!

For his part, Malfoy was beyond shocked. As he watched her staring intently at his lips, he knew exactly what she was considering doing. What was more shocking though was what he wanted her to do. He wanted to feel her lips on his. To know what her kiss felt like. And he did not like it, not one bit, but before he could come to his senses, the Gryffindor princess was kissing the Slytherin prince. And it was hot. Where did a bookworm goody two shoes like Granger learn to kiss like that? Then he remembered. Fucking Goyle!

Hermione had only one other time in her life initiated a kiss and, quite frankly, it had not gone over too well. Stupid Harry. So, she was giving this one everything she had. She briefly wondered if Malfoy was going to be sick like Harry, as he had yet to respond to the kiss. He better not puke in her mouth. 

Malfoy was using all of his willpower not to kiss her back. Some of his sense had come back to him after the initial shock of the kiss was over but not enough to make him pull away from her. He let her continue to kiss him, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about what she had just said. He couldn’t believe she let Goyle get into her knickers. For some reason, it made him really angry. She didn’t deserve to be kissed by a Malfoy. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. And she would have been satisfied. Very satisfied. Fucking Goyle!

Hermione’s fear of rejection and vomit was nothing compared to her fear of revealing to Malfoy what really happened between her and Goyle. She could vividly imagine what his reaction would be when he found out. And she didn’t like it, not one bit. She could still feel a slight urge to tell him the truth, so she soldiered on, embracing him just a little bit tighter and kissing him just a little bit more urgently. After all, she wasn’t going through all of this just to end up telling him what happened, anyway. Not that kissing him was all that bad if she was truly honest with herself. She had always been a little bit curious what it would be like to kiss the so-called Slytherin Prince. Not that she had really found out yet since he refused to kiss her back. However, he hadn’t pulled away, so he couldn’t be all that disgusted with it. Not that she cared or anything.

Malfoy was having trouble concentrating. The kiss was certainly demanding his attention in more ways than one. But despite the intense pleasure he was now experiencing, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Hermione had said about Goyle. What did Goyle mean that he got there first? How far did she let him get? And why did he care so much? All he knew was that the next time he saw Goyle, he was going to fucking kill him. He was going to Avada his ass. Fuck Azkaban. Fuck Goyle. Then it suddenly dawned on him. Oh shit! He was jealous. Of fucking Goyle!

Hermione had the urge to put her hands in Malfoy’s hair. What the hell? She was already kissing him. She might as well get all of the curiosity out of her system. She tried not to think about curiosity killing the cat. She knew she was pushing her luck, but she had always wondered. And this would probably be her only opportunity. What was she thinking! Of course this would be her only opportunity. It’s not like she was going to kiss Malfoy ever again. No, definitely not. Her hands slowly traveled up his neck and into his perfectly groomed hair. Surprisingly, his hair wasn’t as goopy as she thought it would be. It was soft and silky and smelled good, too. Malfoy didn’t move an inch the whole time she was running her fingers through his hair. He must be really stunned at the moment she thought stifling a giggle. 

Fuck! She was totally messing up his hair. Probably just to mess with him. And for some strange twisted reason, he didn’t mind. Much. He wouldn’t have let Pansy get away with this crap. Of course, Pansy didn’t kiss like this. Hermione’s lips were so soft, and her kiss was even more passionate than he had imagined it would be. Not that he had thought about it all that often. He was stuck in a frigging house with her, is all. Her kiss felt so good though. It felt right even though he knew it was wrong. Very wrong. It was getting harder and harder for Malfoy to restrain himself. In fact, everything was getting harder. Fucking Granger. “Mmmmm” fucking Granger.

Hermione froze. Did he just say ‘mmmmm?’ What the fuck did that mean? 

Why did she stop? Did he just say ‘mmmmm’ out loud? Shit! Oh, fuck it. Malfoy surrendered and whether it was to her or himself, he wasn’t quite sure. But he kissed her. And not a first date kind of kiss either. In fact, he picked up where she had left off and plunged right in as if he had been kissing her the whole time. It didn’t bother him much that Hermione was not responding to his kiss. Yet.

Oh, my God. Malfoy was kissing her, and it felt eerily familiar to her, like something out of a dream. Like the dream she had had earlier that summer. This was no ordinary kiss either. It was more intimate than any kiss she had ever experienced. It was intoxicating but without the firewhisky. It was incredible. She was suddenly very aware of the fact that she wasn’t wearing any knickers. Fuck! Hermione did the only thing she could. She responded.

Malfoy felt her body tremble underneath his, and he knew that she was about to respond to his kiss. She couldn’t even hold out as long as he had. He was too irresistible. The smirk was already forming on his lips when he felt Hermione’s response with a vengeance as he was violently shoved off the bed. He fell to the floor with a thud. “What the fuck, Granger?” asked Malfoy outraged. 

“You, you kissed me,” she stammered accusingly.

“No, you kissed me.”

“But I only kissed you to shut myself up. You kissed me for no reason!”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I kissed you because you were kissing me. What more reason do I need?”

“That’s not true, and you know it. The whole time I was kissing you, you never kissed back. It was only after I had already stopped, after you said ‘mmmmm’, whatever the hell that means, that you decided to stick your tongue in my mouth! Ugh!”

“If you were so repulsed by it,” said Malfoy angrily, “you shouldn’t have stuck your tongue in my mouth to begin with!” 

“I told you. I only kissed you so I would stop talking about Goyle. It had nothing to do with you. I didn’t want kiss you!”

“And you think I did? You think I wanted to kiss a Mudblood?”

“I don’t know. Who the hell knows what you are thinking? I don’t pretend to understand the mind of an asshole!”

“Well, let me give you a clue then. I only kissed you because I thought you could use a lesson. I know how you hate to be a failure at anything. The reason, I didn’t kiss you back was because that pathetic thing you call a kiss didn’t deserve a response. Where did you learn to kiss like that, anyway? Longbottom’s grandmother?” asked Malfoy with an evil smirk on his face.

Hermione was livid. Nobody called her a failure, especially not some stupid fuck like Malfoy. How dare he insinuate that she was a bad kisser. She hadn’t had any complaints before. Some Slytherins rather enjoyed her kissing. “As if your kiss was so great. In fact, I didn’t kiss you back because the whole thing was such a disappointment. I mean really. Coming from the so-called Slytherin Prince, I expected a little more. I don’t even know why they gave you the title to begin with because believe me, I’ve had better!” shouted Hermione.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “Trust me. If I really kissed you, you would not be bitching about it. And fuck Goyle. Or maybe you already have.”

“Well you’ll never find out, now will you? Because you used the oldest Muggle trick in the book.”

“I didn’t do anything Muggle.”

“Oh, but you did. When you kissed me, I was so totally horrified by it that you completely scared the crap out of me. And scaring the hiccups away is the most common Muggle cure for hiccups there is. And for your information, it works!”

Shit! Her hiccups were gone? He hadn’t found out the whole story yet. The whole reason he slipped her the stupid Truth Bubbles was to find out what happened with Goyle. All the other embarrassing things were just a bonus. He had found out a lot to his chagrin. More than he had bargained for, actually. But there was obviously still something big that she didn’t want him to know about. So big that she was willing to kiss him to keep her secret. “What the fuck did you do, Granger?” 

Hermione looked smug. Malfoy had done his worst, and he still hadn’t found out her biggest secret. She had beat Veritaserum. By kissing! Malfoy would never find out what unthinkable thing a bottle of firewhisky and a few kisses (well a lot of kisses) had led to her to do. She shuddered just thinking about it. But she knew she was safe now. “That, Malfoy, is none of your fucking business.”

“You think one miserable little kiss is going to stop me from finding out what happened? If you do, you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

“You’re right about one thing, that kiss was miserable. I’ve never been so miserable kissing someone in my entire life. I only did it under duress. I didn’t do it because I wanted to, or anything. At least, we didn’t kiss each other at the same time. So, it’s not like it was a real kiss. We have that to be thankful for, anyway. However, if you really think you are going to find out my secret, then you are the one that’s not as smart as you think. Veritaserum couldn’t even get it out of me, and there is only one other person that knows what really happened that night, and I’m quite positive he’ll never tell!”


	15. Dinner Date

“I can’t believe you let Goyle get into your knickers,” said Malfoy accusingly.

“I didn’t say he got into my knickers; I only said that he has them.”

“So, are you saying you didn’t shag him?”

“I’m not saying anything because it’s none of your God damn business, Malfoy.”

“So, you did shag him.”

You know, just because he’s seen my knickers doesn’t mean anything. You’ve seen my knickers and more, and we haven’t done anything. Much.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Speaking of that, next time you feel the need to kiss me, give me some kind of warning, so I can get the hell away from you. Maybe you should wear a little bell around your neck, so I can hear you coming.”

“Whatever, Malfoy,” huffed Hermione. “You could have pulled away. You knew what was going to happen. I saw it in your eyes. I wasn’t sure what it was at first, but now I know. It was anticipation. You were anticipating my kiss. My Mudblood kiss. And you didn’t want the kiss to end either. That’s why you started kissing me after I stopped.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Am I? Then tell me, Malfoy. Why do you even care what I did with Goyle?”

Malfoy glared at her. “I wouldn’t say I care.”

“What if I were to tell you I did shag him?” asked Hermione slyly. Take that, you shit!

Malfoy’s hands clenched into fists at his side and that was answer enough.

Hermione smirked.

Malfoy wasn’t happy about the idea of Hermione shagging Goyle, and he really wasn’t happy that she was smirking about it. “I don’t like you.”

“Good. I don’t like you either.” Hermione shrugged.

“You like Goyle?”

Hermione took a long moment to consider exactly what her feelings for Goyle were. She hadn’t quite sorted that out yet. It was kind of complicated. She finally settled on saying, “I liked him better when I thought he was a dumb ass.”

Malfoy couldn’t help laughing at that. “Yeah, me too.”

Just then, they both heard a tapping on the window and turned to see a rather large brown owl with a message attached to its leg. Hermione didn’t recognize the owl and assumed it was for Malfoy. Therefore, she was quite surprised when Malfoy with an extremely suspicious look on his face handed her the sealed parchment that simply said “Granger” on it. Besides Malfoy, Hermione could think of only two other people who referred to her by her last name, and she sincerely doubted Crabbe would send her a letter, much less spell her name correctly. She opened it up and read it with a frown on her face.

_Granger,_

_Ran into your mum at the mall. She invited me to dinner tonight. Ditch the prick. See you at 7:00._

_Goyle_

“Shit! That fucking asshole. I’m going to kill him!” fumed Hermione, crumbling the parchment in her hand.

“What the fuck is that all about?” asked Malfoy, eyeing the parchment clenched in her fist. Finally some other unlucky fuck was on her shit list. Maybe she’d stop bitching at him for a while. That owl looked familiar though. And who else called her Granger?

“It’s a dinner invitation for tonight,” said Hermione rather bitterly.

“So, don’t fucking go.”

“I have to go, or I should say, we have to go.”

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

“I mean you and me. I can’t leave you alone here, so we are going out to dinner tonight.”

“Out? You mean I get to leave this hellhole?” asked Malfoy, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“Don’t get too excited. You’re just leaving one hellhole for another. We’re going to my parents’ house.”

“Oh.”

“I haven’t even told you the bad part yet. It gets worse.”

“I don’t see how,” grumbled Malfoy. A whole evening with Muggles. Oh, joy.

“Oh yeah? Well, how about this? The whole reason Mum is throwing this little dinner party is to get to know my new boyfriend.”

“Hell, no! I’m not pretending to be your God damn boyfriend,” exclaimed Malfoy angrily.

“It’s not you, dip shit. It’s Goyle.”

“Goyle is your fucking boyfriend?” asked Malfoy incredulously.

“No, dumb ass. My parents just think he is.”

“Why the hell would they think that?”

“Because that’s what I told them!”

“You are really fucked up. You know that?” asked Malfoy quite rhetorically.

“He did this on purpose,” said Hermione, more to herself than to Malfoy. “Owling me as if this were a fucking date or something. It will totally serve him right when I bring you along.”

“Wait a minute. That owl was from Goyle?”

“Yes, it seems he ran into my Mum at the mall and somehow finagled a dinner invitation.”

“What the fuck was Goyle doing at a Muggle mall?”

“Running into my Mum!”

“Well, I’m not going. I don’t do Muggles or parents. And I’m definitely not having dinner with fucking Goyle.”

“Oh yes, you are. You don’t have a choice. I’m not leaving you here alone, and I’m definitely not leaving my parents alone with Goyle. So, suck it up because it’s going to be one long ass night. Of course, it’s going to be way more unpleasant for me than it is for you.”

“I doubt that.”

“Want to bet? I might as well get something out of this horrendous situation,” said Hermione darkly.

“Are you going to stick to the bet this time?” asked Malfoy pointedly.

“Yes,” replied Hermione, somewhat sheepishly, remembering how her anger had gotten the better of her last time.

“How will we decide who the winner is? Misery can be rather subjective,” said Malfoy.

“It will be glaringly obvious, I’m afraid. You’ll concede the minute it’s over,” stated Hermione confidently.

“Yeah right. What are the stakes?”

“I want my wand back,” said Hermione, without even having to think about it.

“No way.”

“You’re going to have to give it back to me at some point anyway.”

“Yeah, some day when I’m not forced to live in the same fucking house with you.”

“It’s not like I’m going to be irresponsible with it.”

“Try again.”

“I’m not going to abuse my power with it.”

“Ha!”

“Okay, I’m not going to kill you with it. Even though I’m sure you’ll give me plenty of reasons to.”

“Alright, I’ll buy that.”

“So, you’ll give it back if I win?”

“Maybe. Depends what I get if I win,” said Malfoy smiling mischievously.

Hermione sighed. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“A command.”

“A what?”

“You have to follow one of my commands for a 24-hour period.”

“No way! That’s way too vague. You could try to make me do something illegal or immoral.”

“I promise it won’t be illegal or immoral or even anything against the stupid Order. Take it or leave it.”

“I don’t know.” He obviously had something in mind that she wasn’t going to like.

“Isn’t getting your wand back worth it? I thought you were so sure of yourself. Are you chicken?”

“No!” She hated when he did that. “Alright, I’ll take the stupid bet. You don’t know my parents. I’m totally going to win this.”

“Well, I guess you’re not a chicken after all, not anymore anyway,” said Malfoy with a smirk.

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Make me, Granger.”

“Don’t make me kiss you again. I wouldn’t want to ruin my appetite. How are we going to get out of here?”

“We’re leaving now?”

“Well, we don’t have that much time, and I’ll have to change at my parents’ house. I’m not sitting through dinner with my parents and Goyle not wearing any knickers.”

“I’m sure Goyle wouldn’t mind,” said Malfoy a little bitterly.

“I don’t know. I think he rather enjoyed taking them off the last time.” Hermione smirked.

Malfoy scowled at her. “He’s going to tell me, you know. He’s not the gentleman you seem to think he is.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’s a gentleman. Far from it. But he won’t tell you,” said Hermione confidently.

“You seem awfully sure of yourself.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” Hermione laughed. She went over to his dresser and started rummaging in his drawers.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ asked Malfoy angrily.

“I’m looking for something to cover us up to protect us from the fireworks.”

“Well, you’re not going to find anything in my sock drawer,” growled Malfoy, grabbing her hand.

“Don’t tell me you hid something in your sock drawer. Can you pick a more obvious place?” Then she saw it. She turned to Malfoy incredulously. “You keep a diary?”

“It’s a journal,” said Malfoy through clenched teeth.

Hermione started laughing. “You are such a girl.” But then she dropped the subject. She would totally read it later. It’s not like she was being nosy or anything. It was her job is all. Remus would expect her to read it. It could have something about Death Eaters in it. It could have information that would help win the war. Or maybe something that would make her job a little easier. It would be very useful to know what Malfoy was planning to do to her before he did it. And admittedly, she was a little bit curious. What on earth would Malfoy put in a diary?

Malfoy slammed the drawer shut. “Just stay out of my fucking business.”

“Fine. Stay out of mine then. Let’s just go,” said Hermione. “I guess we should just make a run for it. Maybe the fireworks will have died down by now.” Hermione walked over to the door and noticed Malfoy wasn’t following. She looked over at him and thought he looked a little green. 

“Are you coming, Malfoy?”

“I don’t think I’m going,” said Malfoy.

“It’s not an option, Malfoy. Besides, we have a bet. Are you scared of seeing Goyle? Think he’ll kick your ass?”

“I’m not scared of fucking Goyle. I’ll kick his ass.”

Hermione started laughing. “You’re not scared of Muggles, are you? Your father’s a Death Eater, for goodness sake.”

“I’m not scared of Muggles. I just don’t like meeting parents. I had to meet Pansy’s, and it was awful,” he said with a shudder.

“Well, you don’t need to worry. If you behave yourself, I won’t tell them what a shit you’ve been to me. Although my father would probably think it’s funny. He’s a bit of a shit himself. Now, Goyle is the one who should be worried. Very worried. Serves him fucking right though.”

Hermione cracked open the door and looked out into the hallway. She could hear Whiz-Bangs going off up on the third floor, but she didn’t see anything outside of Malfoy’s room. “I think the coast is clear. Come on. Don’t make me have to hold your hand.”

“I’m coming. Keep your knickers on. Oh, I forgot. You’re not wearing any.”

“Ha ha. Very funny. As if you would forget that. Speaking of my knickers, there they are.” Hermione stepped out into the hallway and walked over to pick up her knickers lying in the middle of the floor. Thank God Remus hadn’t come in and found them lying there. Now that would have been embarrassing. It would look like… Well, it wouldn’t look very good is all. She most certainly wasn’t having that good of time with Malfoy. Hermione was just leaning over to pick them up when something hard slammed into her and knocked her to the floor. “Damn it, Malfoy. Would you stop doing that? You’re really starting to piss me off.”

“I just saved your ass. There was a Whiz-Bang heading right towards it. You should be on your knees thanking me.”

“Yeah, like that will ever happen,” said Hermione, pushing Malfoy off of her. 

“There’s always my command,” said Malfoy with an evil smile.

“That would fall into the immoral category.”

“That’s debatable.”

“But not winnable.”

Malfoy shrugged. “I have other ideas.”

“I’ll bet you do,” said Hermione dryly. “Good thing I’m not curious since I’ll never find out what they are.”

“Never say never,” said Malfoy with a wink. Then he slammed her up against the wall.

“Fuck, Malfoy! That hurt.”

“Sorry, another Whiz-Bang.”

“I think you’re full of shit. I haven’t seen any Whiz-Bangs.” 

“If you’d open your fucking eyes, you’d…” began Malfoy before he was roughly knocked into the opposite wall by Hermione.

“Sorry, Whiz-Bang,” said Hermione, not sounding very sorry at all.

“You bitch. I really did see those Whiz-Bangs.”

Hermione’s eyes widened as she stared off behind him. “Fuck, Whiz-Bang!”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Then he watched Hermione grab her knickers and run like hell down the hallway toward the steps. He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his ass and then took off after her. He flew down the steps two at a time with the Whiz-Bang right on his ass the whole way. He got to the bottom of the steps and tripped over something on the floor, falling flat on his face. “Shit, Granger. Why are you lying on the floor?”

“Look up, dumb ass,” said Hermione, pointing up.

“Oh,” said Malfoy, looking up to find Whiz-Bangs flying everywhere. “I told you so, you bitch.”

“Whatever. We just have to make it to the kitchen. The door’s closed, so thankfully, there won’t be any of your fucking whiz-bangs in there.”

“They’re not mine. They came out of your… Hey, wait up.” Hermione was already crawling commando style (literally) toward the kitchen door. Malfoy quickly crawled after her. “You know, I can see up your skirt.

“Would you get up here! I don’t want you behind me looking up my skirt.”

“Sorry, I’m too busy keeping an eye on your ass,” said Malfoy, laughing. “I mean protecting your ass from Whiz-Bangs and shit.”

“If that weren’t sort of true, I’d kick your ass right now,” said Hermione, opening the kitchen door.

When they were both safely inside, Malfoy looked at the back of his pants where the Whiz-Bang had got him. “Shit! I have a hole in my pants.”

“Serves you fucking right.”

“Well, now I’m definitely not going.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

Hermione grabbed a handful of Floo powder and turned on Malfoy. Then with her hand holding her knickers, she started poking him in the chest and backing him up toward the other side of the kitchen. “I am the babysitter. I am in charge. And I say you are going!”

If Malfoy hadn’t been so focused on Hermione’s knickers at the time, he may have noticed how close he was to the fireplace. But of course he didn’t. “No,” he said with a smirk.

“Yes,” she said smirking back and jumped him, wrapping her arms and legs securely around him. He stumbled back into the fireplace; she threw down the floo powder and shouted her address. They zoomed through the Floo Network entwined together. Hermione couldn’t help having a feeling of deja vu. Then all of a sudden, they landed hard and tumbled out of Hermione’s parents' fireplace and onto their living room floor. Lying on top of Malfoy with her legs still wrapped around him, she looked up to see Goyle staring down at her.

“I see you two are getting on,” said Goyle rather calmly.


	16. Mum’s Mistake

“Looks more like getting it on to me,” said Mr. Granger, walking up next to Goyle and looking down at his daughter’s precarious position.

Beyond embarrassed, Hermione quickly scrambled off Malfoy. Great. Goyle was already here. She really didn’t need this shit. And for some reason, seeing Goyle made her very aware of the fact that she still wasn’t wearing any knickers, and even worse than that, she wasn’t holding them in her hand either. Shit! She looked around desperately. Where the fuck were they?

“Hermione dear,” said Mrs. Granger, pulling her aside and brushing the soot off her clothes. “That was quite an entrance.” Then she whispered in her ear a little too loudly, “Really, what must Gregory think. You bringing another date to dinner. You told us you two were serious.”

“We are, Mum,” muttered Hermione. Seriously fucked up, that is. “Mum, Dad. This is Draco. He’s doing the summer enrichment program at Hogwarts with me. We were studying together when I got Gregory’s note. Gregory and Draco are friends from school, so I asked Draco to come along. I was sure Gregory wouldn’t mind,” said Hermione, glaring over at Goyle.

“Of course not,” said Goyle, looking down on Malfoy smiling. “Draco doesn’t threaten me in the least.”

Malfoy stood up and glared at Goyle. “Yeah, Hermione and I are just study partners. We were ‘studying’ really hard when we got your note, Gregory. Really going at it, if you know what I mean. Hermione was really into it. You know how she gets when she’s ‘studying’, don’t you, Gregory?”

Goyle replied, “Yes, I had the pleasure of ‘studying’ with her,” and then he paused slightly before adding, “first.” Malfoy scowled in return.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the two idiots in front of her. If she made it through this night alive, she was never ‘studying’ again. “Enough. It’s nobody’s business who I have or haven’t ‘studied’ with.”

Mrs. Granger, relieved that Hermione hadn’t brought a date to the dinner she was hosting for her boyfriend, happily joined in the conversation if not quite the same conversation as everyone else. “I’m so happy that Hermione finally has two nice young men to study with. She usually just studies by herself. She locks herself up in her room and studies for hours on end. She studies so much, I’m afraid she’ll go blind. She can’t get enough of it. Study, study, study. That’s all she thinks about. She tries to study with Harry and Ron at school, but they’re not very good at it, especially when she studies with them at the same time. Maybe this coming school year, you three could all study together. I’m sure you would make a great threesome.”

Hermione was growing redder by the minute and Malfoy and Goyle, who had been grinning throughout Mrs. Granger’s description of Hermione’s ‘study’ habits, nearly growled at each other over her threesome comment. It seemed Slytherins weren’t into sharing all that much.

Mr. Granger patted Hermione on the shoulder. “Stick to ‘studying’ by yourself, kiddo. Better off blind than pregnant.”

“Dad!” cried Hermione, completely mortified.

“I’m just saying.”

“Well, don’t,” said Hermione.

“Really, Bob. Where do you come up with these things?” asked Mrs. Granger, giving her husband a reproving look. “Let’s go out to the patio, shall we? I thought we could eat dinner outside in the garden since it’s such a lovely night. Of course, I was only expecting four, so it might be a little tight. I’m sure Hermione and Gregory won’t mind squeezing together though. You can sit next to me, Draco,” said Mrs. Granger, smiling at him. She headed toward the back door and turned around looking expectantly at Malfoy. “Draco, are you coming, dear?”

Malfoy looked around as if unsure what to do. He didn’t want to leave Hermione and Goyle alone together, but he couldn’t think of what he could do about it either, so he grudgingly followed Mrs. Granger. However, remembering the hole in the back of his pants, he walked sideways toward the door with his back up against the wall, looking as though he were walking on the ledge of a tall building afraid that he might fall off. Hermione couldn’t help giggling at the ludicrousness of it. Malfoy just glared back at her.

“He’s a keeper, that one,” said Mr. Granger sarcastically, nodding his head toward Malfoy, before heading outside, leaving Hermione and Goyle alone.

“Yeah, he should be kept on a leash,” muttered Goyle.

“Jealous much?” asked Hermione, smirking.

“Maybe,” said Goyle, pulling her in close.

“Serves you right. How dare you go to the mall!”

“Have something against malls?” asked Goyle, kissing her neck.

“Hmm?” asked Hermione, getting slightly distracted.

“Why don’t we go up to your room and let Malfoy have dinner with your parents,” Goyle whispered seductively, his lips finally making their way up to her mouth. 

Hermione couldn’t help but return his kiss. It was exactly how she had remembered it. Not even an entire bottle of firewhisky could erase it from her memory. It was the type of kiss that made her forget just about everything but not quite. “Dinner with my parents,” she mused, still kissing him. And then she remembered why she was so angry with him and pushed him away from her. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. What the fuck were you thinking bringing Malfoy along?”

“Malfoy is my responsibility. I’m his fucking babysitter.”

“According to Malfoy, you most certainly are his fucking babysitter. The question is who’s the one really getting fucked here?”

“Fuck you, Goyle,” said Hermione, turning to leave.

“Wait,” said Goyle, grabbing her arm. “I’m sorry. It’s not like I didn’t know it was a possibility. I even told you it would happen at some point. I guess I am a little jealous. Just answer me this. Have you and Malfoy kissed?”

“Well…” hedged Hermione. Dear God. She really hadn’t planned on kissing Goyle so much this evening or at all for that matter, but she really didn’t see any other way around it this time. Goyle just didn’t need to know anything about Malfoy and vice versa. Slytherins were an awful lot of trouble. Harry and Ron weren’t this much work. Enough stalling. Just kiss him already. “You mean like this?” asked Hermione, leaning in for a kiss. Goyle responded to her kiss immediately. Hermione pulled back and looked into his piercing brown eyes. “Most certainly not.”

Goyle smiled. “I knew he was full of shit.”

“I’d say he’s most definitely full of himself but, yeah, same difference.”

“So, up to your room then?” asked Goyle hopefully.

“Not a fucking chance. Dinner was your stupid ass idea, and I know it. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Would you two get the fuck out here,” said Malfoy from the doorway. “I’m not eating with Muggles alone. And Granger, tell your Mum to quit trying to look at my ass.”

“She is not! You’re such an arrogant prick, Malfoy.”

“An arrogant prick with a really fine ass. Now, get your ordinary average asses out here.”

“Whatever,” huffed Hermione, pushing passed him, slamming the door in his face.

The moment Hermione was gone, Malfoy turned on Goyle. “Having fun?”

“We were until you showed up,” replied Goyle.

“Don’t get too used to it,” threatened Malfoy.

“What are you going to do about it?” asked Goyle amused.

“Maybe, I already have done something about it.”

“Yeah, right. She already told me you haven’t even kissed yet. I think you must be losing your touch.”

“Well, our dear Hermione isn’t being very truthful, is she?"

“I don’t know about that. Did she tell you that I have a pair of her knickers?” Goyle smirked.

“Yes,” said Malfoy. “And did she tell you that I have a pair of her knickers as well?” Smirking at Goyle’s apparent disbelief, he held up Hermione’s pink and white polka dot knickers in front of his face. Then he stuffed the knickers back in his pocket and said, “I didn’t think so.”

Goyle scowled at Malfoy. He really didn’t like Malfoy having a pair of her knickers, and he wasn’t about to let him get away with it unscathed. This was war. “Did she tell you I shagged her then?”

Malfoy’s smirk disappeared, and he scowled back at Goyle unable to say anything back to that.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” said Goyle, walking outside slamming the door on Malfoy.

Malfoy waited a moment and then followed, slamming the door behind him.

There was an awkward silence between the five people crowded around the small patio table. They were all quite wrapped up in their own thoughts, none of which were suitable for appropriate dinner conversation. Hermione’s thoughts wavered back and forth between what terrible things she wanted to do to both Malfoy and Goyle to what unspeakable things she wanted to do with them. Malfoy was thinking about Goyle shagging Hermione. Goyle was wondering why Malfoy had a pair of Hermione’s knickers. Mr. Granger was trying to decide which of these little pricks was going to knock up his daughter, and Mrs. Granger was thinking about Malfoy’s ass. Just your ordinary run of the mill dinner party.

The more Malfoy thought about Goyle shagging Hermione, the angrier he got. Until now, he had been able to convince himself that it hadn’t really happened. Now, that he had seen them together and heard Goyle say it himself, he was quite sure they had, and he wasn’t happy about it. Not at all. He stared angrily at the both of them from across the table. He needed to vent his anger. Preferably on Goyle. So, he hauled off and kicked him in the leg.

“Ow! Fuck!” yelled Hermione, reaching down and rubbing her leg and sending a death glare over to Malfoy.

“Hermione, language! Please don’t say ‘fuck’ at the table. Where are you manners?” asked Mrs. Granger sternly.

“Sorry, Mum. Leg cramp,” said Hermione, still glaring at Malfoy.

There was silence for a while and then. “Mother fucker!”

“Bob! We have guests, and they’re children,” said Mrs. Granger reprovingly to her husband.

“But that little fucker kicked me,” protested Mr. Granger.

“That’s no excuse for rude, inappropriate manners. Let’s remember that we are the adults here.”

“Sorry, Jean,” mumbled Mr. Granger, sending his own glare at Draco.

“Draco, perhaps you should aim more for the middle, dear,” said Mrs. Granger, kindly giving his leg a squeeze.

Malfoy’s eyes widened in surprise, but he took her advice and aimed for the middle.

“Son of a bitch!” yelled Goyle.

“There, do we have that out of our systems now?” asked Mrs. Granger pleasantly.

“No!” yelled Hermione, Goyle and Mr. Granger and at the same time all three kicked Malfoy as hard as they could.

“Fuck!” yelled Malfoy.

“Three on one. Shame on you!” reprimanded Mrs. Granger. “Can’t we just try to at least make it through dinner?” Then she whispered in Malfoy’s ear, “Poor dear. Want me to kiss it and make it feel better?”

“Um, that’s okay. Thanks,” said Malfoy uncertainly.

“Maybe after dinner,” she said, giving him a wink and squeezing his leg again. She took a big gulp of wine and then said, “Alright, let’s eat. I made a little bit of everything because I wasn’t sure what everyone liked. There is a buffet set up over there, so just help yourselves. And please, try not to kill each other on the way over.”

Hermione, Malfoy, Goyle and Mr. Granger all grudgingly got up and limped over to the buffet table. Mr. Granger took the opportunity to lean in close to Malfoy and say quietly, “Kick me again, and I’ll fucking kill you. And keep it in your pants if you want to keep it at all. I mean it. I don’t care if you have to piss in your pants; keep it zipped up.”

Malfoy looked at Mr. Granger in horror. Had he seen how Mrs. Granger was hitting on him? Fuck. He really hated meeting parents. This was the Parkinsons all over again. Could he help it if he was irresistible to all women even the old ones? Shit, he was lucky McGonagall didn’t throw him down on her desk in the middle of class. “I’m sorry I accidentally kicked you, sir. And I swear I would never lay a hand on Mrs. Granger.”

“Jean? You thought I was talking about my wife?” Mr. Granger started laughing. “You’re alright, kid. That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. She’s just having a bit of fun with you. Just something we do. Spices up the marriage, if you know what I mean,“ he said, giving Malfoy a wink and an elbow in the ribs. Malfoy looked like he was going to be sick. “I mean my daughter. Hands off.”

“Don’t you think you should be having this conversation with Gregory. He’s her boyfriend, not me,” said Malfoy rather bitterly.

“Well, I’m a little late for that now, aren’t I? He’s a sneaky fucker, that one. We already had our little talk. And I’m definitely keeping my eye on him. But I see how she looks at you. And how you look at her. You remind me a bit of myself, and I was a real shit at your age. I know you two are spending the summer together, and I don’t like all of this 'study' business.”

“We certainly haven’t 'studied' together like she did with Gregory,” muttered Malfoy.

“Well, keep it that way. Ooh, shrimp,” said Mr. Granger, scooping a big helping onto his plate and leaving Malfoy to his own thoughts.

Malfoy looked over at Hermione. Her dad was definitely a fucking nutcase, but did he see something that Malfoy didn’t? Did she really look at him in a certain way? And how did he look at her?

“Quit staring at me, you prick.”

Yeah, he was definitely just a nutcase. Right now, she was looking at him as if she were going to kill him, not shag him. No need to risk unzipping his pants for that. “I’m not staring at you, bitch.”

“You know, you’re lucky I didn’t kick you a little higher,” said Hermione. “I really wanted to, you know. What were you thinking kicking everyone at the whole table?”

“I didn’t kick your mother,” mumbled Malfoy.

“You’re lucky you didn’t. She would have kicked your ass.”

“Yeah, right. I think she’s a little too busy trying to get a piece of my ass,” replied Malfoy conceitedly.

“Not everyone is interested in shagging you, Malfoy.”

“Goyle told me your secret,” blurted out Malfoy.

“What!” exclaimed Hermione completely horrified. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have.

“He told me you shagged him.”

“Oh... Did he say anything else?”

“There’s more?” asked Malfoy incredulously.

“No. Of course not. I shagged him. I’m very embarrassed by it. And now you know my secret. Let’s go eat,” said Hermione quickly. And with that, she left him standing by himself at the buffet table.

What the fuck? Malfoy returned to the table a little stunned. She didn’t even seem to care that he knew about it. She didn’t seem embarrassed at all. She had made such a big production of keeping this secret from him and now that he had found out, it didn’t seem to matter to her anymore. What the fuck was going on here?

“So, Hermione,” began Mrs. Granger, trying to ease the tension at the table. “How is the summer enrichment program going so far? Is it everything you expected?”

“Yes, it’s been quite a challenge, to say the least, but I think I’m definitely coming out on top,” said Hermione smugly, thinking of all the times she had bested Malfoy in their little war.”

“How about you, Draco?” asked Mrs. Granger.

“I don’t mind Hermione being on top,” Draco said, looking over at Goyle. He didn’t dare look at Mr. Granger.

“Yes, we’re so proud of our Hermione. She studies so hard,” began Mrs. Granger.

“Mum, I'm pretty sure no one wants to hear anything else about my ‘study’ habits.”

“I know that I don’t,” said Mr. Granger.

“Bob, please be serious. Studying is important. Hermione’s whole future is at stake. She needs the support and advice of both her parents.”

“Here’s some advice. Use protection. I’m too young to be a grandfather.”

“Dad! We’re eating, for goodness sake.”

“What your father is trying to say, although rather poorly, is that we hope you’ll take things slowly with Gregory.”

“Mum, do we really have to do this now?” asked Hermione desperately.

“Yes, I think we do. You and Gregory seem to be getting pretty serious, and I know that people get married a lot younger in the Wizarding World, but we really hope that you will wait and get your career started before you decide to become Mrs. Malfoy.”

Hermione and Malfoy both started choking on their food. Goyle looked rather resigned. Mr. Granger was eating shrimp.

“Mum, you’ve made a dreadful mistake. Gregory’s last name is Goyle.”

“Oh, dear. I was quite sure you called him Malfoy that night. In fact, you rather shouted it.”

Oh fuck!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How’s that for a secret!


	17. Food Fight

“You called Goyle by my name?” asked Malfoy, completely dumbfounded. Then he noticed Hermione’s cheeks were turning a very vivid shade of pink, and there was a look of sheer horror on her face. Comprehension finally dawned on him, “You screamed my name while you were fucking Goyle?” 

Hermione laid her head in her hands and silently wished she had her wand so she could Obliviate her parents’ memories and send them off to Australia or something and then maybe Avada herself or Malfoy, preferably Malfoy. Mrs. Granger, stunned by the whole situation, kept her mouth shut for once and finally figured out that ‘studying’ really meant S.E.X. Oh, dear. Mr. Granger stopped eating his shrimp. He momentarily lost his appetite because no matter how he looked at it, his daughter was still screwed. Goyle leaned back in his chair and tried to remember why he had wanted to come to dinner in the first place. Oh yeah, he thought he would have her knickers off by now. Fucking shit. And Malfoy? Well, Malfoy had the biggest smirk on his face ever. And that was saying something!

“Well, that must have been really fucking awkward,” said Mr. Granger, stating the obvious. “And then she goes and invites the bastard to dinner. Go figure.”

“Granger said my name. That must have really sucked,” said Malfoy, still smirking.

“Well, it had been pretty good up to that point actually,” said Goyle reasonably. 

“Come on. That must have killed you. Her calling out my name instead of yours.”

“It certainly killed the mood; that’s for sure. On the bright side, we were pretty much finished as it was.”

“I bet it was a real blow to your ego. Her screaming Malfoy in ecstasy.”

“Not too bad. At least I made her scream. Who’s name have you made her scream? Wait a minute. Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Nobody’s. Because you haven’t shagged her.”

“Nice try, Goyle. If I did shag her, and I could if I wanted to. For Christ’s sake, she shagged you after all. If I did shag her, she would call out my name just like she did with you because she obviously wants me. I know you can’t fucking stand it. She was thinking about me the whole time she was…”

Hermione lifted up her head. “Would you two shut up? I really don’t need my sex life, fucked up as it is, discussed in front of my fucking parents. Sorry, Mum. And stop smirking, Malfoy! You know, that’s the only reason I kissed you. Because I didn’t want to have to look at that big fucking smirk on your face when you found out.”

“You kissed him?” asked Goyle, not entirely happy with this new found information.

“Shut up, Goyle. It wasn’t even a real kiss, and I didn’t enjoy it. It was like kissing a fucking corpse.”

“Whatever, Granger. It’s obvious you want me. You would think yelling out my name while you were shagging Goyle would give you a fucking clue.”

“Would you stop saying that! I don’t want you; I don’t like you, and I most certainly don’t want to have sex with you! Yes! I screamed your fucking name when I was… well, you know. Big fucking deal. I might have yelled out Crabbe’s name, too. Maybe the whole fucking Slytherin Quidditch team, for all I know. And I wasn’t thinking about you when we were doing ‘it’. I can, with absolute certainty, tell you that I wasn’t thinking at all, or we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. I was completely drunk off my ass. I obviously didn’t know what the hell I was doing!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” said Goyle, reminiscing a bit.

“Shut up Goyle! You’re not helping! The point is, Malfoy, it doesn’t change anything! You’re still a prick. I’m still a bitch. And Goyle, well, Goyle isn’t as stupid as we thought he was.”

Goyle rolled his eyes.

Hermione’s mother finally found her voice again. “Hermione Jean Granger! How could you?” exclaimed Mrs. Granger, clearly upset.

“I’m so sorry, Mum. You must be really disappointed in me, but I am of age and… I’m really sorry. I just don’t know what else to say.”

“I really thought you were smarter than this, young lady. When we had our little talk about the birds and the bees, I had no idea I had to explain how inappropriate it was to get the boy’s name wrong. You probably made poor Gregory feel very inadequate. It does things to them ‘down there’, you know. This could be quite devastating for him in the future, performance wise.”

“How about it, Goyle?” said Malfoy laughing. “Having trouble getting it up now? Are you feeling inadequate?” asked Malfoy, mocking concern.

Goyle gave Malfoy his biggest smirk. It was time to turn the knife. “No, I can’t say I feel inadequate at all. The sex was still amazing, even if she did call out the wrong name. Besides, she got it right the second time and the…”

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock, and she turned angrily on Goyle. “Shut up, Goyle!” Then because she couldn’t help herself, she looked over at Malfoy only to receive a face full of mashed potatoes.

Hermione scraped the gunk away from her eyes and said, “Fuck, Malfoy. You have the worst aim ever.”

“Who said I missed?” asked Malfoy, glaring at her.

“You son of a bitch!” yelled Hermione as she picked up a fork full of cranberry sauce and flung it across the table, hitting Malfoy right where it would hurt him the most.”

“Not my hair, you bitch!”

“I hope it turns your hair pink, you fucking prick!

“If my hair turns pink, I’m going to make your life a living hell, Granger!”

“Tell me something I don’t know! It’s not like you don’t already do that every single fucking day!” yelled Hermione, flinging more of her cranberry sauce.

Mrs. Granger was utterly appalled by her daughter’s behavior, but as Hermione was armed with cranberry sauce that stains horribly, and she was wearing her favorite Chanel suit, she was loathed to get involved. “Bob, why are you just sitting there? Do something!” she hissed.

“Hermione,” said Mr. Granger sternly.

At the sound of her father’s voice, Hermione’s anger quickly dissipated, and she started to feel ashamed of her sudden outburst. She had never acted this way in front of her parents before. Why would she? Malfoy was usually far, far away. “Yes, Dad,” she answered meekly.

“Could you pass me the gravy, please?” asked Mr. Granger.

“Um, sure, Dad,” said Hermione uncertainly, passing the gravy boat to her father.

Mr. Granger took the gravy and then proceeded to dump it all over Goyle’s head. “That’s for shagging my daughter, you prick.”

Hermione took one look at Goyle dripping in gravy and burst into giggles.

“Think that’s funny, do you?” asked Goyle. He could see Malfoy laughing across the table, as well.

“Yes.” Hermione laughed.

“How about some gravy to go with those mashed potatoes?” asked Goyle, right before he kissed her. Food fights were messy, but Goyle knew how to really fight dirty. 

Mr. Granger and Malfoy were not too happy at this unexpected turn of events, and they both starting chucking every food item from their plates at the oblivious snogging couple. Yorkshire pudding, roast beef, mashed potatoes, peas, carrots, cranberry sauce, a chicken leg or two. Mr. Granger, however, adamantly refused to give up his shrimp. It’s not like the boy hadn’t already shagged his daughter after all. A little bit of snogging wasn’t going to make that much of a difference. No use wasting perfectly good shrimp.

Hermione had a vague sense that she was being pelted by food, but she was having difficulty dwelling on it for long. Goyle was such a good kisser. So good that she completely forgot they were at a dinner party with her parents. Of course, she hadn’t forgotten Malfoy entirely, but really, screw him.

Goyle could care less that they were throwing food at him. It was better than them throwing punches, not that he couldn’t handle that either. He knew this was killing Malfoy and that made the kiss that much sweeter. After the whole gravy thing, he wasn’t really too concerned about how Mr. Granger felt about it either. And surely, Mrs. Granger would be happy he wasn’t having any performance problems. Because he definitely wasn’t. His hand expertly slid under her skirt for her knickers. It’s not like anyone could see what he was doing. They were too busy throwing fucking food at them to notice. And he had been waiting all night for this. Better late than never. However, when his hand reached its target, he was shocked to discover that they were already missing. Fucking Malfoy. Goyle pulled out of the kiss and out of her skirt and said as calmly as he could, “You’re not wearing any knickers.”

Hermione had been surprised when Goyle went up her skirt, but his words surprised her even more. Did he have to tell the whole fucking table about it? Couldn’t he just be happy there was less work for him to do? She glared over at him. “Thanks for making a formal announcement about it, Goyle. Fuck! Would you like to send off something to the Daily Prophet, as well?”

“Hermione! You’re not wearing any knickers? What if you had been in an accident?” asked Mrs. Granger, quite scandalized.

“Well, I had them Mum. I just kind of lost them when we Flooed here,” said Hermione, quite embarrassed. She would have thought she would have been immune to it by now. It seemed like a moment didn’t go by where she wasn’t completely humiliated by something or other. How could she still be blushing about anything? She cautiously glanced over to the side and could tell by Goyle’s expression that he thought he had a pretty good idea about how she had lost her knickers. She wished she knew.

“That happens?” Mrs. Granger asked, horrified by the thought of losing one’s knickers en route.

“Apparently,” replied Hermione.

“Well, next time keep your knees together, dear,” said Mrs. Granger helpfully.

Malfoy snorted at that and ended up inhaling a face full of mashed potatoes. As soon as he stopped choking on them, he was going to fucking kill Goyle.

Goyle had finally cracked. He had had enough of Malfoy’s smirking and snide comments. He’d had enough of his innuendos and taunts. He did not like that Malfoy and Hermione had kissed, especially since Hermione had tried to hide it from him. And he most certainly did not like that Malfoy had her knickers, the knickers he had been looking forward to removing all night, in his fucking pocket. Shit was going to fly. Well, mashed potatoes anyway and whatever else was left of dinner. After the launch of mashed potatoes, Goyle chucked a chicken leg and hit Malfoy smack in the forehead.

Malfoy was livid. How dare Goyle throw food at him? Goyle was the one who was doing all the shagging. He shouldn’t get to throw food too, that fucking greedy son of a bitch. Malfoy looked down at his plate and realized that he had already thrown all of his food during the snog fest he was forced to witness. He looked over at Mr. Granger’s plate, and it was empty except for a few shrimp, which he seemed to be hoarding. No point losing an arm over it. Mrs. Granger’s plate was still full, but she scared the shit out of him. There was only one thing to do. Hit the buffet. Goyle was right behind him. And funnily enough, Mr. Granger after him. Maybe they would throw some shrimp his way.

“So, Hermione,” said Mrs. Granger conspiratorially, scooting her chair closer to her daughter. “Pretty exciting having two boys fight over you.”

“Mum, it’s a food fight, for goodness sake,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I did add some lemon zest to the squash, dear. If they get that in their eyes, it would really sting.”

“Then I guess, I’ll just have to pray they both go for the eyes,” said Hermione sarcastically. 

“Aren’t you even rooting for one of them?” asked Mrs. Granger disappointed.

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re both pain in the asses.”

“Watch your language, dear.”

“Sorry, Mum.”

“You know, when I met your father, he was a pain in the ass, too.”

Hermione looked over at her father. He hadn’t seemed to pick a side either. He was at the buffet table egging on Malfoy and Goyle in their ridiculous food war and occasionally throwing something at the both of them when they weren’t looking. He was having a little too much fun with the whole thing. He had just got Goyle really good with an entire cheese platter. “Yeah, he still is, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but now he’s my pain in the ass.”

Hermione watched Malfoy shoving a handful of brussels sprouts in Goyle’s face and Goyle rubbing roast beef in Malfoy’s hair. Her mum had really made way too much food. “They’re idiots,” said Hermione, more to herself than to her mum.

“Well, of course they are. They’re boys. Unless you plan on becoming a lesbian, you’ll just have to deal with that fact. And if you are going to become a lesbian, that’s fine too. Our neighbor’s daughter is a lesbian, and she got to be in a parade,” said Mrs. Granger excitedly.

“Mum, I’m not going to become a lesbian just so you can be in some stupid parade.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. My money’s on Draco. He’s a persistent little fucker. And he has a cute ass.”

“Mum! Language! And eww!”


	18. Dinner Disaster

“Well, he does have a nice ass. Just because I’m your mother doesn’t mean I’m blind, you know,” said Mrs. Granger a little huffily.

“I know, Mum,” said Hermione, trying really hard not to roll her eyes.

“What? That I’m not blind or that Draco has a nice ass?”

“Both. I am unfortunately very aware of both of those things,” said Hermione wryly.

“I knew you had noticed his ass!” exclaimed Mrs. Granger, taking yet another sip of wine. The word ‘ass’ somehow didn’t seem quite as vulgar after a few glasses. “I mean, how could you not notice that fine piece of ass, Hermione? Poor Gregory though. I’m just glad you didn’t ruin him with the whole name fiasco.”

“Not that again. Believe me. He’s fine. If you must know, he made a very quick recovery,” said Hermione, blushing a bit.

“I’ll bet he did,” said Mrs. Granger with a sly smile. “He certainly still seemed ‘up’ to things a little while ago, anyway, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, it seems like he is always up to something. I’ll give you that.”

“So, was he your first?”

“Mum!”

“Oh, come on Hermione. You can tell me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“No. You’re my mother.”

“Well, who else are you going to talk to about this kind of thing? Your friends, Harry and Ron?”

“Not likely,” snorted Hermione.

“So, talk to me. You can trust me. I’m very good with secrets.”

“Right, Mum. Because of you, the whole dinner table including Dad knows that I not only shagged Goyle but that I mistakenly called out Malfoy’s name. You’re a frigging vault.”

“Well, to be fair everyone at the table already knew you shagged Gregory, except maybe poor Draco. You should have seen his face when he figured out you screamed his name though. It was like Christmas had come early.”

“Yeah, I bet his ego grew three sizes too big when he found that little bit of information out. He already thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

“Is he?”

“How would I know? We have definitely not done that!”

“And what about Gregory? Is he God’s gift to women? I bet he’s a real stallion in the bedroom, not that you two have ever made it to the bedroom,” said Mrs. Granger, giving her daughter a wink.

“Mum, I am so not having this conversation with you,” said Hermione, thoroughly exasperated and still embarrassed beyond belief. Why on earth did she have to bring Goyle home with her that night? Not that the Floo ride home hadn’t been incredible, but really, they should have just had sex on that table at The Three Broomsticks or went to his parents’ house. If his Death Eater parents would have caught them shagging, they probably would have just used a simple killing curse on her instead of this Muggle torture crap her parents were putting her through.

“Your father is a stallion too, you know.”

“La la la la la la la. So not listening!”

“I’m just saying, you should add that to your list. It’s a very nice quality in a man.”

“What list?”

“Your list for comparing Draco and Gregory, of course. To help you decide!”

“I don’t have a list!”

“Well, we need to make one then. Oh, this is going to be so much fun. Bob, I need a pen,” Mrs. Granger called.

“Why do you think he’s a stallion?” asked Hermione, somewhat curious by her mother’s outlandish comment.

“Well, I’m not blind, and I’m not deaf either. You two could have woke the dead that night, which I guess you kind of did, otherwise your father would have missed the introductions. Which by the way, if you had introduced us properly in the first place, I wouldn’t have made that little mistake at the dinner table. It was really quite awkward. You should always give first and last names when introducing people.”

“Oh, sorry Mum. I wasn’t aware of the etiquette involved when introducing your parents to the boy you’re caught shagging with.”

“Well, now you know, don’t you? Anyway, he’s definitely a stallion that one,” said Mrs. Granger, looking over at Goyle, who was now pelting Malfoy with stuffed mushrooms. 

“Who’s a stallion?” grumbled Mr. Granger, reluctantly leaving the food fight to bring his wife a pen.

“Well, you are of course, dear, but we were talking about Gregory. We’re making a list to help Hermione decide between Gregory and Draco.”

“Those two doofuses? The ones over there throwing food at each other?” asked Mr. Granger incredulously.

“It seems there were three doofuses over there throwing food at each other a minute ago,” said Mrs. Granger pointedly. “You have some shrimp in you hair by the way.”

“Those bastards were throwing high on purpose,” said Mr. Granger, feeling around for the shrimp in his hair. 

“Well, Draco’s aim is rather poor if we all remember correctly. Although, he did get Hermione rather good with the mashed potatoes. Of course, I have to give it to Goyle, as his move with the gravy was rather brilliant, I must say. Anyway, back to the list. So far they are tied. We have decided Draco has a nice ass and Gregory is a stallion. Write that down, Bob,” said Mrs. Granger, getting down to business.

“I’m not writing that bullshit down,” Mr. Granger protested.

“Do you want to help your daughter or not? Isn’t her happiness important to you?” asked Mrs. Granger, really laying down the guilt.

“Why them? What about Harvey and Rick?” asked Mr. Granger. They hadn’t shagged his daughter. Not that he knew of anyway.

“It’s Harry and Ron. And you don’t like them either, Dad.”

“Maybe you should write them on the list, too, Bob,” said Mrs. Granger, thinking the more choices her daughter had the better. 

“No, never mind. Forget those assholes. Alright, nice ass. Stallion. Got it,” said Mr. Granger, grudgingly writing it all down. Writing down a bunch of ridiculous shit about two prats was quite enough to be getting on with. No need to bring in those other two shit heads his daughter called ‘friends’.

“Bob, those are my best napkins!”

“It’s only one napkin, Jean. How long is this list going to be for Christ’s sake?” asked Mr. Granger, losing his patience. “I can’t think of anything good to say about either one of them. One’s a whiny arrogant prick, trying to get in my daughter’s pants and the other is a shrimp stealing, daughter shagging, Neanderthal bastard. What’s to like?”

“Nice Dad. You care more about Goyle stealing your shrimp than him shagging your only daughter?” accused Hermione, slightly annoyed.

“Well, I’ve had a while to get used to the whole shagging thing. The shrimp thing is more recent. And he sure has some nerve stealing my shrimp after he shagged my daughter.”

“Ooh, that’s a good one, dear. Write down nerve for Gregory. And confidence for Draco. That sounds better than arrogance. Now, Hermione, it’s your turn. Say something nice.”

“Well, Malfoy has lovely pink hair and Goyle looks good with gravy on his head, “ said Hermione, smirking a bit. 

Her father laughed and gave her a high five. “I rubbed some beets in Draco’s hair. He’s never going to get that fucking pink color out of that stupid white hair of his,” said Mr. Granger mischievously.

“Good one, Dad.” 

“Be serious, you two. Surely you can think of something nice about them, Hermione.”

“No. I really can’t,” said Hermione adamantly.

“Think about why you fell in love with Gregory in the first place.”

Hermione started choking (and so did her father). “I’m not in love with Goyle. I barely know him.” Oops. She probably shouldn’t have said that.

“Hermione Jean Granger! You told me you two were serious! That he was your boyfriend!”

“Well, Mum. I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have been the proper etiquette to introduce Goyle as some boy I barely knew, or for that matter even liked in the slightest, but for some unknown reason and a bottle of firewhisky, I decided to bring him home and shag the living daylights out of him in my parents’ living room. I didn’t think that would make for a great introduction. In fact, I’m quite sure you would have found that rude!”

Mr. Granger cleared his throat interrupting the dreadful silence that followed that very rude, yet very true statement. “Well, that settles that then. I for one feel a bit relieved actually. You’re not really stupid after all, honey. You just have your mother’s head for liquor. She puts out after a few drinks too,” he said, giving Mrs. Granger a wink. Then he turned back to Hermione. “Stay off the booze, kid. I don’t know how many more of these ridiculous little dinner parties I can take. The company and conversation have really sucked so far, although the food-throwing bit wasn’t so bad if I’m really honest. Did you see me dump that entire cheese tray on that bastard? Classic. I guess we’re done with this list thing then. Here’s a review. We’ve come to the conclusion that Draco has a nice ass, is very confident and has pretty pink hair. While Gregory, on the other hand, is a stallion, has some nerve and wears gravy well. It’s a tough choice, pumpkin. Good luck to you,” said Mr. Granger, patting her on the back and then getting the hell out of there.

“Hermione! Did you waste your first time on a boy you don’t even like?” asked Mrs. Granger, horrified at the thought.

“No, I wasted my first time on a boy I shouldn’t have liked but, for some reason, happened to like very much.”

“Well, that’s different then. Um, are we still talking about Gregory, dear?”

“Are you shitting me?” yelled Hermione incredulously.

“Really Hermione is that any way to speak to your mother? I was just asking a perfectly legitimate question. You have to admit, you’ve been rather vague about your love life thus far,” said Mrs. Granger, thoroughly put out by her daughter’s crass response.

“Sorry, Mum. I wasn’t talking to you,” said Hermione, glaring over at Malfoy who was now taunting Goyle, waving her pink and white polka dotted knickers in his face. 

“Oh,” said Mrs. Granger, realization dawning. “I see Draco has found your knickers.”

“Apparently.”

“Gregory doesn’t seem to like that very much, does he?”

“No, he does not.”

“So, you’ve made your choice then?”

“Let’s just say that for the moment, I have chosen a side. What’s for dessert, Mum?”

Mrs. Granger smiled. “Your favorite. Triple layer chocolate cake. With raspberries.”

“Perfect.”

“I’ll be right back with dessert,” said Mrs. Granger excitedly. “Don’t start without me!”

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. Draco Malfoy was going down. He was going to be very sorry he ever stole her knickers. She could just imagine the stories he was telling Goyle as he recklessly waved about her knickers. That knicker stealing bastard! In his dreams. Like she would ever even consider doing that with him. Well, not now anyway, that stupid prick. Hermione looked back at the house. Why was her mother taking so long? She was just itching to smear raspberries in Malfoy’s hair. It would be so satisfying. It was very lucky her mother had made her very favorite dessert for tonight and that her favorite dessert happened to have raspberries on it. Lots of them. 

Too bad she had to waste it on Malfoy. Maybe she could sneak a lick on the Floo back. No, that would probably be too naughty (but chocolaty!), and he didn’t deserve naughty Hermione. Of course, would it really matter if he wasn’t aware that she was licking him? Probably not. As Hermione was pondering this delicious thought (in more ways than one), she saw her mother walking quickly toward her with a chocolate raspberry layer cake in one hand and a stack of pots and pans in the other. Her mother had also apparently taken the time to change into more casual attire. No wonder she had taken so long. She eyed her mother questionably.

“Well, I didn’t want to miss out on all the fun, and that was my favorite suit. I thought we could use some more ammunition, as it appears the boys are all out. They won’t stand a chance. And I brought a little surprise,” said Mrs. Granger giggling. She set down all of the food and pulled out two cans of whipped cream. “One’s for you, but the other is mine. Your father was right about me and alcohol. He’s getting lucky tonight,” said Mrs. Granger, shaking the can of whipped cream with a twinkle in her eye.

“Seriously, Mum. We’re not friends. I don’t want to know this stuff. I was perfectly happy thinking the stork brought me and that you and Dad have never had sex.” She shuddered just saying it out loud, but she took the can of whipped cream anyway and the chocolate raspberry layer cake and as much food as she could possibly carry. This was war. She marched over to Malfoy.

“What do you want, Granger?” drawled Malfoy, as though he didn’t really have pink hair. Cocky son of a bitch.

“I want my knickers,” said Hermione threateningly.

“No,” smirked Malfoy.

“Goyle, a little help please.”

“I already have a pair, thank you,” said Goyle a little coldly. He obviously believed Malfoy’s stupid stories. Shit that they were. Of course, Goyle probably wouldn’t be very happy if he knew what really happened between her and Malfoy either. She really wasn’t going to win on this one.

“Fine. I don’t need your help anyway. I can take you both down,” said Hermione angrily, taking one of her pots and dumping the whole thing on Goyle’s head with a little more force than was required. She left the pot sitting on his head and said, “There, why don’t you have some mashed potatoes to go with your gravy. I’m just returning the favor after all.”

“I think I liked my way better,” muttered Goyle from beneath the pot.

Malfoy snickered, but Hermione quickly turned on him. “And why don’t you have some dessert, Malfoy. My treat,” said Hermione as she scooped up a handful of delectable raspberries with rich creamy chocolate frosting and vindictively smeared it all over his hair. Malfoy looked good enough to eat. Licking her fingers, smirking, she said, “Yum, raspberries.”

Malfoy started shaking, he was so angry. “If one more person puts something in my hair I’m going to… I’m going to…”

“Whine about it some more?” suggested Hermione sarcastically.

“Say something naughty?” suggested Mrs. Granger provocatively.

“Go home?” suggested Mr. Granger hopefully.

“Kill yourself?” suggested Goyle even more hopefully.

“Here,” said Hermione stepping a little closer to Malfoy. “Let me fix it for you.” She took her can of whipped cream and squirted it all over his head. “There, you can’t even see the pink now. It’s all white and goopy just like normal.” Hermione smirked.

That did it. Malfoy completely lost it. No one messed with his hair and got away with it. He lunged at Hermione, knocking her to the ground. All of the food she was holding flew up in the air and spilled all over the both of them. They rolled around on the ground together grabbing what food they could and shoving it in each other’s faces, as well as other more private places. The Grangers took up the fight on their daughter’s side, but Hermione suffered an awful lot of friendly fire, in most part due to her father’s over zealousness. Mrs. Granger was able to successfully attack Draco with a pot of peas without spilling even a bit on her daughter. However, soon after Mrs. Granger’s can of whipped cream made its appearance, the Grangers made their disappearance. Goyle looked on for a while, but then soon Apparated home. He really didn’t need this crap. Hermione and Malfoy finally ran out of food and noticed everyone had left.

“Where did everyone go?” asked Hermione bewildered.

“Hopefully, Goyle went to hell where he belongs, and I’m pretty sure your parents are over there,” said Malfoy, pointing to the table.

Hermione could see the tablecloth moving and every once in a while a foot came out. Shit. Her parents were so embarrassing. “Let’s go, Malfoy.”

“It’s about time, Granger.”

They reluctantly walked toward the table and Hermione said, “Mum, Dad. We’re leaving now.”

“Alright honey, we love you, and it was so nice to meet you, Draco,” called out Mrs. Granger from beneath the table.

“Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Granger,” said Malfoy awkwardly.

“It looks good on you, dear. Have a safe trip back.”

“Hermione, follow your Mum’s advice and keep your knees together.”

“Good bye, Dad.”

Hermione and Malfoy slowly walked into the house together and went over to the fireplace to Floo back to Grimmauld Place.

“Hands down, this is the worst fucking dinner party I have ever been to, and I’ve been to a lot,” said Malfoy.

“Yeah,” agreed Hermione. “It was even worse than I imagined it would be and that was pretty fucking horrible.” It had been a really long night, and she was tired. Hermione had at least thought she would have gotten to eat something out of this whole horrible situation. She was starving. She looked longingly at a hunk of chocolate cake that had slid down to Malfoy’s neck. “Let’s just get out of here.”

They Flooed back together because Hermione insisted but not in such a compromising position this time as Malfoy was too tired to even try to resist her. They tumbled out into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and when they stood up, Hermione noticed Malfoy staring at her. His mouth was even slightly open. “What?” she asked annoyed.

“Did you just lick me?”

“No!” cried Hermione, her eyes going wide.

Malfoy moved in closer to her and slowly traced her lips with his finger and then stuck his whole finger in his mouth, sucking off every bit of chocolaty goodness. Hermione swallowed uncomfortably. He smirked. “Is that your final answer?”


	19. Sloppy Seconds

“As if I would lick you. We had a food fight. That’s all. I have food all over my body. I have food in places I don’t even want to think about,” declared Hermione, quite in denial. Deny, deny, deny.

“Well, all I know is that you didn’t have chocolate on your lips before we Flooed here,” replied Malfoy knowingly.

“I probably accidentally bumped into you then. You can’t prove a thing,” huffed Hermione.

“Kiss me,” said Malfoy, quite seriously.

“What!”

“I said kiss me.”

“No way.”

“You won’t kiss me because you know I’ll taste chocolate. Chocolate that you licked off my body,” said Malfoy rather smugly.

“No, the reason I don’t want to kiss you is because I think you’re an ass. And you’re annoying. Not to mention, completely selfish and void of any personality whatsoever. Plus, you are totally not my type. I don’t find you the slightest bit attractive. At all. And besides, you’re a Slytherin. Been there, done that,” said Hermione, smirking more than a bit.

Malfoy scowled at that, especially the 'been there, done that' part. He still wasn’t happy with the whole Goyle situation, even if she had called out his name. Fucking Goyle. He started walking slowly toward her as though stalking his prey. “Why don’t you just admit you were feeling a little hungry? It’s only natural. We didn’t get to eat at that little dinner party of yours after all. In fact, I think I’m feeling a little hungry as well.”

“”Why don’t you go make yourself a sandwich then?” suggested Hermione, backing away from him.

“I’m not in the mood for a sandwich. Those mashed potatoes on your face are looking pretty good though. Scrumptious even. I didn’t get to taste any at dinner, as you and Goyle were hogging them all night. I wouldn’t mind a little late night snack,” said Malfoy, moving in closer and licking his lips.

Hermione backed away from him some more, starting to get a little nervous. He had a hungry look in his eyes like he was going to eat her alive. “Stay away from me, Malfoy.”

“Or what? You’ll lick me to death?” asked Malfoy snidely, yet somehow seductively as he continued to move even closer.

“No. I’ll… I’ll…” stammered Hermione. She backed up again, right into the wall. Shit! Malfoy leaned in, closing the gap. Hermione closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. She felt Malfoy slowly lick up the side of her face. Oh God.

“I didn’t get to try any of this casserole on the side of your neck either,” said Malfoy, working his way leisurely over to her neck. He began gently sucking it off in rhythmic motions, making Hermione squirm slightly. Hermione was just barely able to keep herself from moaning out loud but then undid it all by unconsciously tilting her head further to the side, causing Malfoy to take the initiative of consuming the casserole a little more voraciously. Hermione’s eyes flew open, and she gasped in surprise. Not so much because of what Malfoy was doing but, rather, because she was enjoying it. Immensely. She watched as Malfoy buried himself into her neck and licked her own lips when she saw the chocolate cake she had started on earlier during the Floo ride over. Okay, guilty as charged, but with his pink hair covered in chocolate and raspberries and whipped cream, he looked like a delicious pink cupcake. Good enough to eat. And he was. 

She tentatively took a bite off of his ear, grazing his earlobe. Malfoy groaned in satisfaction. She nibbled on his ear and then moved onto some chocolate cake mixed with cranberry sauce on his neck. Malfoy must have finished the food on her neck as he decided to slide down the neckline of her shirt and start attacking the food on her shoulder and, feeling even more brazen, moved on toward her chest. Well, he was a growing boy. Hermione finished her chocolate cake and ran her tongue across his jaw line licking up some raspberries and whipped cream along the way. For a devil, he sure tasted heavenly. She was still licking the side of his face when suddenly Malfoy lifted his head up and then her tongue was almost touching his lips. Oh God.

She was about to say, what the hell, as she did one other crazy night when another naughty word entered her mind. Fuck! Someone was Flooing into the kitchen. Before they could even say that one single naughty word out loud, they were both on opposite sides of the room. Hermione was straightening her shirt and for some reason having to pull down her skirt when Remus stepped into the kitchen. 

Remus carefully took in the situation around him and then finally said, “Well, at least it’s not clown shoes and pig tails this time.

“Remus,” began Hermione desperately, “we were just, um…”

“Having dinner,” finished Malfoy with a smirk.

“So, I see,” said Remus, trying to hide a smile. “Broke all of the dishes, I gather?”

“Not yet,” said Malfoy, giving him a wink.

Hermione could feel the blush creeping on her cheeks, and she could only hope that Malfoy didn’t lick off all of the food that would have helped to hide it. Would her humiliation never end? Remus was her boss, for goodness sake. She was so not getting a good review. Not from Remus, anyway.

“Well, sorry to interrupt your dinner plans. I was just checking in to see how things were going. I know it’s somewhat of a sticky situation for the both of you. In more ways than one, I must say,” said Remus, looking at the two of them, unable to hide the smile this time.

“Yes, well, things did get a bit messy, I admit, but I can assure you that I have everything under control,” said Hermione as professionally as she possibly could, when knowingly covered in food and Malfoy’s saliva. Malfoy snorted and Hermione sent him a glare. “And I think it is fair to say that we are getting on as well as can be expected under the circumstances.”

“I completely agree with you, Hermione. I knew you were the right one for the job,” said Remus. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and then Remus continued to say, “In fact, I noticed immediately that things seemed quite amicable between the two of you when I Flooed in here.” Hermione was quite sure she saw a smirk flicker across Remus’s face. Double fuck.

“Yeah, she’s the best babysitter I’ve ever had,” declared Malfoy, trying to help. Push her over the edge.

“Good to hear. Well, I guess I’ll be going then, unless you need anything?” asked Remus. Just then, there was a loud exploding sound on the other side of the kitchen door. Remus raised his wand.

“No, no. Everything is fine,” said Hermione quickly. “That’s just a Whiz-Bang that escaped from the twins' room. It’s nothing I can’t take care of with my wand,” she said, looking pointedly at Malfoy.

“Well, I don’t mind,” began Remus.

“Don’t trouble yourself. I can take care of a little firecracker. Thanks for stopping in,” said Hermione, walking him to the fireplace.

“No problem. Maybe next time I’ll owl first,” said Remus, and Malfoy started laughing.

After Remus Flooed off, Hermione turned on Malfoy. “You, you…” she sputtered angrily.

“You delicious Slytherin, you?” suggested Malfoy.

“You stupid, pink haired little shit!”

“But delicious, yes?”

“Why do you insist on making me look like an idiot in front of Remus? He’s my boss. Do you want me fired? Do you really want a Weasley to have your fate in their hands? Do you really hate me that much?”

“You’re being overly dramatic. You’re not fired. The werewolf thought it was funny. He seems to actually have a sense of humor unlike some people.” 

“I’m not here for your amusement, Malfoy. I’m not a clown.”

“Not anymore, but I’ll always have a place in my heart for those big ass shoes of yours.” Malfoy laughed.

“If I ever wear those shoes again, I can guarantee I’ll put them right through your heart,” replied Hermione angrily.

“Violence, Granger.”

“As if you even have a heart.”

“Touché. But it’s not my fault you suck at this job, literally.” He smirked.

“What do you mean, I suck?” asked Hermione irritably.

“Well, I was referring to this area right about here,” said Malfoy, pointing to his neck and earlobe with a reminiscent smile on his face.

“No, not that,” said Hermione disgusted, mostly with herself. “I mean how do you suppose that I suck at my job?”

“Well, the clown shoes and pig tails were because of your stupid prank. And while I may have thrown the first forkful of mashed potatoes, you definitely took the first lick. And don’t even try denying it. Everything that the werewolf has walked in on has basically been your fault. You haven’t had control of anything since you took on this job, especially me. You can’t even control yourself around me. Of course, you can blame my charming charismatic personality for that if you want. What can I say? It’s a curse.”

Hermione looked like she was going to throw up. “I do suck,” she said slightly stunned. 

“I don’t mind,” said Malfoy, giving her a wink.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” said Hermione glumly.

“Ooh, now your comebacks even suck. You’re really going downhill fast.”

“Fuck you.”

“Better. That had more conviction and the possibility of sex.”

“Not likely.”

“No?”

“No!”

Malfoy sighed. “Cold shower then. Speaking of that, how do you propose we get to the bathroom?”

“Run like hell?”

“You should have just let the werewolf take care of it.”

“Like I really want him to know what’s been going on around here. What he’s already witnessed has been embarrassing enough. I’m not telling him I lost my wand to you. I’d get fired, and you would probably get sent to Azkaban.”

“Oh, do you suddenly care about me now,” sneered Malfoy.

“No. I just don’t want to fail.”

“Aren’t you already doing that?”

“No. Things haven’t gone exactly as planned. I mean, who could have planned for any of this?” asked Hermione, flicking off a stray lima bean.

Malfoy started laughing. “When I saw you step out of the fireplace and realized you would be the one keeping an eye on me, you know what I thought?”

“I can’t believe a stupid Mudblood is watching me?” said Hermione, doing her best Malfoy impersonation.

“Besides that. I thought things were going to be boring around here. That you would always have your nose stuck in a book.”

Hermione started laughing at that. “I wish.”

“I don’t.”

“Only because you have been winning our little war lately, but now that I’ll have my wand back…”

“Who says you’re getting your wand back?”

“Well, I obviously won the bet,” said Hermione with certainty.

“You did not. I won. My night was way more horrible than yours,” said Malfoy adamantly.

“Were we at the same dinner party? The entire evening’s dinner conversation revolved around my sex life. My Mum decided it was a good idea to blurt out that I called out your name while I was having sex with Goyle. Goyle thought it imperative to let you know that I made the mistake of having sex with him more than once and to spite you and my father decided to snog me at the dinner table and for some reason to tell my parents I wasn’t wearing any knickers. I got covered in food, was completely humiliated by my parents and didn’t even get to eat dinner, compelling me to eat chocolate cake off of you on the Floo ride home. There is no way you can beat that.”

“I knew you licked me!”

“Well, anything tastes good covered in chocolate. Ants, grasshoppers, ferrets…”

“Ha, ha. Very funny, but I won the bet. First of all, I had to have dinner with Muggles and crazy ones at that. And I had to see Goyle, who kept throwing it in my face that he had sex with you. Then I found out he really did have sex with you and more than once. I got kicked really hard by the three of you and then I had to watch you two snog at the table. Your mother hit on me all night. Your father threatened me. Everyone ganged up and was throwing food at me. I now have pink hair... fucking pink hair! And if that wasn't enough, your mother shoved peas down my pants with her bare hands.”

“She did not!” 

“Oh, yes she did,” said Malfoy, reaching into his pants and pulling out a handful of peas. 

“Eww.”

“Exactly. So, I win.”

Hermione didn’t know what to say. Unbelievably, she was beginning to think that maybe he did win fair and square. This really sucked. She really wanted her wand back. “I don’t know, Malfoy. You brought most of that on yourself, and I don’t see why you even care about what I did with Goyle. That’s my dirty little secret.”

“Well, I wouldn’t really call it a secret anymore, would you?”

Hermione’s face turned as white as the mashed potatoes that once covered her face. Pre-licking. “They wouldn’t believe you.”

“Maybe not, but I doubt you would lie to them if they asked you about it. And even if you did lie, let’s face it, you’re not a very good liar.”

Fuck! She did not want Harry and Ron knowing about what she did with Goyle or what she did with Malfoy, for that matter. She would never hear the end of it. This was not good. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“You to admit that I won the bet.”

“Can I have my wand back?”

“No. You didn’t win.”

Hermione didn’t really see any way out of this. His stupid little command better not be too horrible. She would have to find another way to get her wand back. She needed time to think. “Fine. You win, but I get the shower first,” said Hermione as she took off through the kitchen door. Malfoy ran off after her, but he didn’t stand a chance. Hermione was feeling very competitive after just having lost the bet and her pride wouldn’t let her lose two times in a row. She made it to the bathroom without any mishaps with the Whiz-Bangs as Malfoy was covering her ass, yet again, although this time only because he was eating her dust. She even made it to the bathroom with enough time to give Malfoy a fleeting glance of her smirk before she slammed the door in his face. She could hear the Whiz-Bangs exploding around him as he banged on the door to let him in.

“Granger, let me in! These stupid Whiz-Bangs are attacking me!”

“Go to your room, Malfoy. I want to take a shower.”

“I need to take a shower, too.”

“Well, you’re not taking one with me.”

“I’ll let you go first. Just let me in.”

“No. You’ll peek.”

“Granger, it’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

“You haven’t seen… everything.”

“The good parts.”

“Well, I’m not…” she began, when she suddenly heard Malfoy scream. She quickly flung the door open, and he collapsed inside, falling on top of her. Hermione gently lifted his head and said, “Malfoy, are you okay?” Malfoy started snickering. “Malfoy, you prat!”

“You are such a sucker.” Malfoy laughed, getting up and closing the door before Whiz-Bangs could come in.

Hermione did not appreciate being called a ‘sucker’ especially by a Slytherin. It reminded her very much of her night with Crabbe and Goyle when they had tricked her into playing strip studying. And look how that had turned out. “Get out.”

“Come on, Granger. We’re both adults here. I won’t peek if you don’t.”

“I don’t trust Slytherins.” 

“Fine, then I’ll take my shower first,” said Malfoy, starting to undress.

“No. I’m going first, but I swear if you peek, I’m telling Harry and Ron, and I don’t care what they do to you.”

“Like I’m scared of them, but I promise I won’t peek because I am a gentleman.”

Hermione snorted. “Right. You were a real gentleman earlier when you were looking up my skirt.” Malfoy didn’t seem to have a comeback for that. Hermione turned on the shower. She didn’t like the idea of showering with Malfoy in the room, but she was starting to feel really uncomfortable. The whole food thing didn’t seen very erotic anymore, just gross. And besides, he was right. He already had seen the good parts. Hermione stepped into the shower with her clothes on and rinsed off every bit of food she could. Then she peeled off her wet clothes, wrung them out, and tossed them over the shower rod.

“Oh, good. Is the show finally starting?”

“If I see even one little part of you on the other side of this shower curtain, I will beat the shit out of whichever part it is with my shampoo bottle.” After a while, with no unwanted body parts crossing the threshold, Hermione began to relax and enjoy her shower. She scrubbed every part of her body and washed her hair three times. It felt so good to get clean, to just let the hot water run all over her body. She was taking an awfully long shower, but she didn’t really want to get out. She was surprised Malfoy hadn’t complained yet. He was usually such a whiner. That’s when she started getting nervous. She turned off the shower and peeked out. Malfoy was just standing there in the middle of the bathroom staring at the shower. “What are you doing, Malfoy?” she asked suspiciously.

“Waiting for the shower. What do you think I’m doing?” He smirked.

Hermione grabbed her towel. Slammed the shower curtain shut (if you could slam a shower curtain) and dried off. Then she wrapped her fluffy pink towel around her as securely as she could and cautiously stepped out of the shower. “Why didn’t you complain about how long I took?”

“I was being nice,” said Malfoy.

“What’s the real reason?”

“You’re smart. Maybe you will figure it out.”

“Maybe I will,” huffed Hermione. She didn’t like playing games. Who knew what kind of shit he was up to? While Malfoy was taking his shower, Hermione went about her business going to the bathroom, brushing her teeth and flossing (her parents were dentists after all) and finally putting on her lotion. She was trying to decide where she was going to sleep (perhaps Harry’s bed) when she glanced over at the shower and got the shock of her life. There was Malfoy in all of his glory. With the light on in the shower, the shower curtain was practically see-through. That little pervert! Hermione stood there in shock for a minute or two (okay maybe more like five minutes) just watching Malfoy taking his shower. She was absolutely mesmerized by the water running over his body. 

“Hey, Granger. Is my hair still pink?” asked Malfoy, flinging back the shower curtain. 

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise. Oh my. Oh my God.

“Up here, Granger.” Malfoy smirked.

Hermione turned very pink, not unlike Malfoy’s hair.

“I see you figured it out,” said Malfoy.

Hermione’s anger finally kicked in. “I can’t believe you watched me take a shower. You are disgusting!”

“I guess that makes two of us.”

“I wasn’t watching you. I was getting ready for bed and then I just happen to glance over and… And I can’t believe you watched me!”

“What can I say? I liked the show. How about you? Did you like the show?” asked Malfoy, raising his eyebrows.

Hermione allowed herself to take a look at the still very naked Malfoy. He was physically perfect in every way, but he was still a prat. He was completely immature. Not to mention cocky, self-absorbed, completely annoying and smirked way too much. And he drove her absolutely insane. She had only been babysitting him for a few days, but it felt like a lifetime. It felt like forever. She was pretty sure that she knew everything there was to know about him, but she still wanted to know more. Still needed to know more. She thought about what had happened in the kitchen and started to blush. She needed to finish what she had started. It was probably a mistake. After all, she had made a real mess of things so far. She shouldn’t even be thinking it, but she was. If she didn’t do it, how would she ever know if there was anything there? And she was curious. Very curious. She had to take a chance. A girl had to do what a girl had to do. She made her decision then and there. She was going to sleep with Draco Malfoy. Tonight.


	20. Naughty Night

Hermione was feeling very naughty indeed. In fact, she was finding it quite impossible to be a good girl with Malfoy around. She wanted to be bad. Very bad. She wanted to do things to him that she had only dreamed about before. Malfoy was going to be so fucked that when she was through with him, he wouldn’t be able to walk straight. Yes, she was definitely going to sleep with Malfoy tonight. Well, sleep with him as in get into his room, wait until he falls asleep, read his journal, find her wand and then blast the fucking shit out of him kind of sleeping. 

That fucking prick. How dare he laugh at her and tell her she wasn’t in control. She would show him who was in control, that cocky son of a bitch. She had a job to do, and failure was not an option. She was going to finish what she had started. She wasn’t going to be the laughing stock of the Order anymore. She was going to find out more information on Malfoy for Remus if it killed her. And it just might. Well, it probably wouldn’t kill her, but it would certainly be a really big pain in the ass; she was sure of that. But she was willing to do what she had to do. If she had to spend one miserable sleepless night in his room then so be it. If she had to invade his privacy, then too fucking bad. He made his bed, now he could sleep in it while she ransacked his room. 

Because she actually had a conscience (which Malfoy clearly did not), she had decided earlier that evening that she wasn’t going to read his journal out of respect for his privacy, but then he pulled this shit. Watching her take a shower was the last straw. Why should she feel guilty reading his private thoughts when he hadn’t felt guilty at all spying on her in a private moment? A very private moment. He just saw her completely naked, that shower peeping fuck. Just thinking about it made her mad. If she had her wand he would be ferret dust right now. This war was on, and she wasn’t wasting time taking prisoners. He was going down. It was her turn to wear the smirk in this relationship. That little, pink haired shit was going to be sorry he ever messed with Hermione Granger. She counted to ten, threw a towel at him and said, “I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” said Malfoy, giving her a wink.

Hermione rolled her eyes. He was such a conceited fuck even with the pink hair. Malfoy turned his back on her and went off to do his business, as he had obviously been too busy ogling her to do it before. So, Hermione set off to put her plan in motion and quietly crept out the door and headed down the hallway to Malfoy’s bedroom. The moment she was safely inside (unfortunately encountering two Whiz-Bangs along the way), she immediately started going through his drawers. She didn’t really expect to find her wand so easily, but who knew with Malfoy. Sometimes he really was an idiot. 

Her first concern, however, was finding something to wear, as she was definitely not going to bed naked. She may be planning on sleeping with Malfoy tonight but not in ‘that’ kind of way. Because ‘that’ was so not happening. After all, she was not ‘that’ committed to the Order. She was most certainly not ‘that’ kind of girl. Well, not most of the time anyway. The thing with Goyle had been a fluke. A freak moment of insanity really. Strip studying, admittedly, had not been the most brilliant idea. Go figure, since it had been Crabbe and Goyle who had come up with it in the first place. Needless to say, she was pretty sure being naked around Slytherins was a bad idea. Yes, finding clothes was her number one priority at the moment. Finding her wand at this point would just be a bonus. 

So, she went through every single one of Malfoy’s drawers. Ransacked would, perhaps, be the more appropriate term for it. No wand. However, she did find perfectly rolled socks, Slytherin green silk boxer shorts (typical), pajama bottoms but no tops (of course), crisp white t-shirts and impeccably folded pants that were all now more than a little bit crumpled due to her excessive rummaging and extremely foul mood. God, he was anal. For some reason, it really bothered her that everything was so perfect, not that her drawers didn’t look similar. Well, at least they did before the whirlwind that was currently ravaging her room that is. She knew she was being petty, but she found immense satisfaction in rumpling and rearranging his perfectly folded, perfectly organized clothing. She went over to the wardrobe and found a cloak, some robes and dozens of pressed, white button-down shirts. Again, no wand. 

Hermione frowned. It appeared that a white shirt was her only option for sleepwear, not really what she was hoping for. She wanted something black or even Slytherin green, preferably not white, which was much too see through to wear to bed with Malfoy, who she was beginning to realize was something of a pervert. She decided on wearing a white button-down, as it was slightly longer than the t-shirts and at least covered her ass. She slipped it over her head and the material felt very soft and expensive against her bare skin. With pure loathing, she turned toward the Slytherin green boxer shorts and let out an involuntary shudder. She really didn’t want to wear Malfoy’s underpants, but there was no way she was sleeping with him (as she feared she would have to) not wearing anything but a shirt and, unfortunately, the pajama pants were much too big for her. She had been without knickers around him long enough, and it could only lead to trouble. In fact, it had already led to trouble. With a sigh she picked up a pair of his boxers, trying really hard not to think about the intimate parts of Malfoy’s body that had touched the silky material. She was about to step into them, when Malfoy barged into the room.

“What are you doing in my room? And what do you think you are doing with my boxer shorts?” asked Malfoy angrily.

Dear God. He must have seen his pink hair when he was getting ready for bed, as he seemed to be in a really shitty mood now. Too fucking bad for him. Pink haired prick. And it was too bad for her that he still looked hot as hell standing there half naked in only a towel, pink hair and all. Only Malfoy could pull off pink hair, not that she would tell him that without using sarcasm. “Nice hair, Malfoy.”

Malfoy glared at her. He was not in the mood for sarcasm, especially when it came to his hair. “I asked you a question, Granger. Two to be precise. Answer me and then get the fuck out of my room.”

“I’m getting ready to go to bed,” replied Hermione, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. To emphasize that, she added a well placed, “duh.”

“Well, go sleep in Weasley’s room and wear his boxer shorts. I’m not running a shelter for bedroom-less, annoying women,” retorted Malfoy.

“Any clothing I would find in Ron’s room would most certainly be dirty. And as you very well know, I just had a shower. And I’m not in the mood to be dirty, especially around you. And for your information, the reason I am bedroom-less is because you are a prat and decided to let a whirlwind loose in my bedroom. It serves you right if you’re inconvenienced. It’s your own damn fault that I can’t wear my own clothes and have to wear yours. Believe me, I don’t look forward to putting these on,” said Hermione, angrily waving his boxer shorts around. “It disgusts me!”

“Sure it does. And don’t tell me you’re not feeling a little dirty. You’ve been dying to get into my pants ever since you got here.”

“I most certainly have not,” huffed Hermione. 

“Then give them back,” said Malfoy, reaching for them.

“No,” said Hermione, pulling them away from him. “I have to wear something. You can’t be trusted.”

“What am I going to do? Take away your virginity? Oops. Goyle already did that.”

“Goyle didn’t take away my virginity!” Oops. Not at all helpful and way too much information.

“Fuck, Granger. You really are full of surprises. Who was it then?”

“It’s none of your business, Malfoy.” 

“Then stay out of my business, Granger. And stay out of my drawers! Too bad you didn’t find something you could keep, like your wand. Now, give me back my fucking boxer shorts!”

“No,” said Hermione. “I need them.”

“You don’t need them. You’re already wearing my shirt. My favorite shirt, in fact.”

“How do you know this is your favorite shirt? They all look alike.”

“It’s the most expensive one.”

“Well, I guess I have good taste then.”

“I don’t know. You slept with Goyle, and God only knows who else.”

“True,” conceded Hermione. “And I’m sleeping in your bed tonight. You’re right. I have absolutely horrible taste.”

“Oh no, you’re not! I just took a cold shower, thanks to you using all of the hot water up, and as I’m thinking with my brain at the moment, I can tell you right now that I am not sleeping with you.”

“I didn’t ask you to. Obviously, you are the last Slytherin I would ever choose to sleep with. I said I was sleeping in your bed, not with you, you idiot. I meant alone. And the cold shower was your own fault. And I expect you needed it.”

“Not that I’m agreeing to this because I am not, but where do you propose I sleep while you are sleeping in my bed all by your lonesome?”

Hermione shrugged. “Ron’s bed? I think you rather enjoyed it last time,” said Hermione, giving him a wink.

“That was an accident. I didn’t know it was his fucking bed! You sleep in the Weasel’s bed. You’re the one who likes him.”

“God no. I know what he does in that bed.”

Malfoy shuddered at the possibilities of that statement. “Well, you can just go find yourself another bed because this one’s mine, and I’m not sharing. We might accidentally have sex or something. Just because Goyle shagged you doesn’t mean all Slytherins want to.”

Hermione started laughing. “Are you crazy? Not that I want to share a bed with you or anything, but I would never accidentally have sex with you, Malfoy. I can promise you; I do not walk, talk or have sex in my sleep. But if you’re so worried about it, you can be a gentleman and sleep in the chair.”

“I’m not going to waste my time being a gentleman just so I can sleep in a fucking chair all night. You sleep in the chair.”

“I’m not the one worried that I might accidentally have sex with you. I think I can control myself not to jump you in the middle of the night, thank you very much.”

“You couldn’t control yourself not to lick me earlier.” Malfoy smirked.

“That was an entirely different situation. And it was the chocolate, not you. You were irrelevant. Perhaps, you’re more worried that you won’t be able to control yourself around me,” said Hermione, smirking back.

“I told you that I don’t like you.”

“Yes, but you have a funny way of showing it, don’t you?”

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

Hermione replied with yet another smirk and then raised her eyebrows.

Malfoy glared at her. “Fine. I’ll sleep with you, but I won’t enjoy it.”

“Don’t do me any favors, Malfoy.”

“I’m not. You’re still not wearing my boxer shorts though.”

“I’m not sleeping with you without any knickers on. You might try to have accidental sex with me on purpose.”

“It’s your choice,” said Malfoy. “You’re welcome to leave my room anytime. You could try out the evil twins’ room.”

“Not likely. And besides I’m stuck here anyway, there are Whiz-Bangs out there,” said Hermione. She could hear them exploding outside the door, and she hadn’t got to read his journal yet or find her wand. She was sleeping in his bed, no matter what he said. She had a job to do. She just preferred to do it with her knickers on. “You can’t stop me from wearing your boxer shorts.”

“Can’t I?” asked Malfoy, walking closer towards her.

Hermione’s eyes widened, and in self-defense, she grabbed the first thing she could get a hold of and threw it, right at his face. It hit him right between the eyes. He stood there frozen in disbelief that she had actually just thrown a sock ball at him. She had thrown a sock ball at a Malfoy. Hermione couldn’t help herself. She burst into a fit of giggles. Malfoy obviously did not find the humor in it. Hermione grabbed a handful of sock balls and backed away. She was barely able to choke out through her laughter, “Stay back, Malfoy. I did it once, and I’m not afraid to do it again. I throw a mean sock ball.”

“You are one crazy bitch, you know that?”

“Your point being?”

“Just stating the obvious.”

“Well, let me state the obvious. Your. Hair. Is. Pink.”

“That’s it, you bitch!” yelled Malfoy, lunging for her. Hermione quickly dodged him and dove across the bed to the other side. Then she let the sock balls fly. To her surprise, they came flying back at her with a vengeance and then some. He must have gotten more ammo from the drawer. And Malfoy had a pretty good aim, too. He hit her right in the mouth, her left ear, her chest and her stomach before she could even take cover behind the bed and then he got her a whole bunch of times right in the ass when she was bending over to pick up the sock balls he had just thrown at her. Cheeky little bastard. She threw them all back and got a little overzealous and ended up throwing the boxer shorts as well. Damn.

“Ha!” cried Malfoy in triumph, as he easily caught the boxer shorts and put them on, whipping off his towel dramatically and swinging it over his head. He then put both fists up in the air and strutted about the room declaring himself to be the, “Sock ball champion of the world.”

“You’re an idiot, “ said Hermione, pulling back the covers and climbing into bed.

Malfoy looked at her in his bed and started laughing. “This is only your third day on the job, and this is the second time you are sleeping in my bed. And the first time ended in you having an orgasm.”

Hermione glared at him. “That was my first and last orgasm in your bed.”

“Unless we accidentally have sex tonight.”

“Which we won’t.”

“But we could.”

“Even if we did, which we won’t, that doesn’t mean I would have an orgasm.”

“Oh, but you would.”

“Then I would be faking it,” said Hermione, smiling sweetly before she turned over on her side, facing away from him.

Malfoy glared at her back before turning out the light, yanking back the covers and grudgingly crawling in next to her. He then dramatically turned over on his side away from her, taking most of the covers with him. Hermione yanked the covers back and held onto them tightly as Malfoy continued to tug on them. They continued in a tug of war with the blankets with Hermione having the advantage. Hermione was just about to say something smug when Malfoy suddenly pulled on the blankets really hard, bringing her along with them, and flipping her over on top of him. Hermione looked down at him and said, “Shit, Malfoy. Keep this up, and we really are going to have accidental sex.”

“I think my cold shower is wearing off,” said Malfoy, groaning slightly.

“Ugh,” said Hermione, climbing off of him. “Just stay on your own side.”

“The whole bed is my side,” replied Malfoy.

“Not tonight it isn’t.”

“Well, my half should at least be bigger since it is my bed.”

“If it was bigger, then it wouldn’t be half, you idiot.”

“I don’t know how you got anyone to shag you when you insist on doing math in the bedroom. It’s not a real turn on. I can tell you that.”

Hermione responded with a pillow to his face.

“Pillow fight time, already? Skipping the pillow talk and going right for the action, nice,” said Malfoy, throwing the pillow back at her.

Hermione was about to beat the shit out of him with her pillow when common sense took over, and she decided that as fun as that would be, it wouldn’t really be very conducive to sleep, which she wanted Malfoy to do, so she could search his room. So, she grudgingly shoved the pillow under her head and said, “Just go to sleep and leave me alone. I don’t want to talk or fight or have sex with you. I just want to sleep.”

There was silence for all of one minute before Malfoy said, “Your feet are touching mine. And they’re cold.”

“You are on my side of the bed. Your feet are touching mine. And if my feet are cold, it’s because you are hogging all of the blankets,” said Hermione angrily. Why wouldn’t he just go to sleep?

“Well, I’m used to spreading out. I’ve never had anyone else in my bed before.”

Hermione turned over and looked at him incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“I meant for the actual sleeping part.” Malfoy was quick to amend.

“Alright, I’ll give you a bigger half,” said Hermione grudgingly.

“Then it wouldn’t be a half, would it?” asked Malfoy snidely.

Hermione glared at him, but then suddenly realized something. “Why aren’t you wearing your pajama pants? You always wear pajama pants to bed,” said Hermione suspiciously.

“How do you know that?”

“Research,” said Hermione smugly.

“Big deal. I know what you wear to bed, too,” said Malfoy, quite sure of himself.

“You do not.”

“Yes, I do.”

“What?”

“Stolen shirts and no knickers.”

“Goodnight, Malfoy,” said Hermione, ending the conversation abruptly. Malfoy was silent after that, but it felt like it was taking him forever to fall asleep. Hermione recited complicated spells in her head; she recalled various dates from History of Magic; she reread ‘Hogwarts: A History’ in her head, which she had practically memorized and then she finally heard Malfoy’s breathing slow. He appeared to be sleeping, but she decided to wait an extra fifteen minutes before she got out of bed to begin her search just to be sure. He was a tricky bastard. The moment she shifted to get up though, she felt Malfoy’s arm wrap around her body, pulling her toward him. She lay there for a moment with her eyes wide in alarm, unsure what to do about this unexpected situation. He pulled her in closer and nuzzled his head into her hair. Oh my God. Malfoy was snuggling with her. Malfoy was a snuggler. Who would have thought?

She put her hand on his and tried to pry him off of her, but he squeezed her tighter and said, “Don’t go, Hermione.” She froze. She twisted around so she could look in his eyes, but they were closed. He appeared to be talking in his sleep. Dobby had told her he did that. Wait, he had called her Hermione in his sleep. Were they on friendly terms in his dreams? Hermione tried shifting around in an effort to loosen his hold on her, but it was no use. She tried to at least turn back around so she wasn’t facing him anymore, but then he moaned and said, “Oh, Hermione,” and wrapped his leg around her. How friendly were they in his dreams? Then a terrifying thought occurred to her. What I if it was one of ‘those’ kind of dreams? What if he did stuff in his sleep? Oh God, they were going to have accidental sex. 

She had to get out of there. She started scooting down toward the end of the bed. Her body was slowly sliding down his. Her head was at his waist and her shirt (or rather Malfoy’s shirt) had ridden up just under her chest when she decided that this was a very bad idea. She had just made things go from bad to worse. He still had his body wrapped around her and now she was in an even more compromising position than before and was completely naked from the waist down. So much for being the smartest witch of her age. Luckily this type of situation wouldn’t come up in her N.E.W.T.s, or she would fail for sure. And just as she was about to forget about the horrible situation she was currently in and start worrying about N.E.W.T.s, she felt her head being pushed down and Malfoy whispering passionately, “Oh, Hermione, I love it when you do that.”

That was it. Hermione starting freaking out and thrashing her arms about, trying to get free from Malfoy. She didn’t care if he woke up or not, but she was not accidentally doing THAT! Then Malfoy starting laughing so hard that he loosened his grip on her, and she flailed herself right off the bed and onto her naked ass. Malfoy sat up and leaned over the side of the bed, looking down at her. “Sorry. I was just fucking with you. You are such a sucker.” Then he laid back down and laughed his ass off.

Hermione stood up with as much dignity as she could, marched over to Malfoy’s dresser and pulled out a pair of Slytherin green boxer shorts. She then jammed her legs into them, pulled them up, walked back to her side of the bed and got in. She turned toward Malfoy with her angriest glare and said, “Fuck you,” and then pushed him right off the bed. 

Malfoy landed with a thud and said, “Fuck, Granger. What was that for?”

“That was for messing with me. Don’t fuck with me when I’m trying to sleep.”

“Oh, is that what you were trying to do?” asked Malfoy sarcastically, getting back into bed. “Because I thought you were trying to get me to go to sleep so that you could sneak off and find your wand. I’m not an idiot. I know why you are sleeping in here tonight.”

“Well, it wasn’t for your charming personality; that’s for sure.”

“Perhaps my handsome good looks?”

“Tall, pale and pink doesn’t really do it for me,” sniffed Hermione, turning over and taking most of the covers with her. She was fairly certain she heard a distinct growl to that comment, but Malfoy didn’t say anything scathing in return. He didn’t even bother to pull the covers back. He was probably too busy sulking about his stupid pink hair. He was such a baby about it. As soon as she got her wand back, she was going to have a little fun at his expense. 

Speaking of her wand, it seemed as if plan A was not going to work after all. It was time to move on to plan B. Why hadn’t she come up with a plan B? Now she was entirely too tired to come up with a plan B. All she wanted to do was go to sleep. It seemed as though Malfoy was going to keep an eye on her all night. She might as well go to sleep. That’s it! She would go to sleep. How brilliant was that? Malfoy could waste the whole night away waiting for her to do something while she just slept. He would eventually feel stupid when he realized that she really was just sleeping and go to bed. Then she would wake up really early, read his journal, find her wand and give him a wake up call he would never forget. Hermione closed her eyes and waited for the pleasant dreams she knew would come.

On the other side of Hermione, Malfoy was seething. He didn’t need to be reminded of his fucking pink hair. He’d almost had a heart attack when he saw it in the mirror. He looked like he belonged in Hufflepuff, for fuck’s sake. Of course, he was fairly certain Granger still found him attractive even with the pink hair, despite what she said. Their little midnight snack proved it. You don’t lick someone your not attracted to. Oh shit! He was attracted to Granger? No way. That was impossible. And so wrong. It was probably just because she was the only girl he had been in any close contact with since he fled school that horrible night. It wasn’t her, it was just his hormones, and she did seem to get herself into such compromising situations. He smiled thinking about what had just happened. He liked messing with Granger. 

He turned over and looked at her. She was one big hairball. He couldn’t even see her face. However, she was lying on her back and he could see her chest slowly rising and falling in even steady breaths. He gently pushed the hair away from her face. Her eyes were closed and her lips were curved ever so slightly in a smile. She looked like an angel. Of course, Malfoy was quite aware of the fact that looks could be very deceiving. She was no angel, and he was fairly certain that she wasn’t really asleep. She just wanted to make him think that she was sleeping so that he would go to sleep and then she could go looking for her wand. He wasn’t falling for it. He wasn’t a sucker like she was.

He decided to mess with her again. He bent down over her and gently placed a kiss on her smiling lips. A soft sigh escaped from her perfect mouth, and she turned over and snuggled into him. Not really the reaction he was expecting. It was a lot less violent than he thought it would be. He decided to press his luck. He lightly ran his fingers up her leg over her hip and under her shirt. His shirt. He moved his hand along her back tracing circles and figure eights. She pressed her body slightly closer to his. He was surprised at her restraint. She should have pushed him out of the bed about now and threw a few well-chosen curse words his way. 

He knew what would do the trick though. The circles he was tracing on her back became lazy lines that swirled and looped and began moving away from her back and closer toward her side. His fingers swept down low circling the waistband of his boxer shorts and then slid across her flat stomach up toward her breasts. Hmmm. Still no death threats or knee to the groin. He pulled his hand away. He really shouldn’t be doing this if she was sleeping. But the moment his fingers left her skin, he heard her verily breathe the words, “Touch me again.” Shit. She had said the words so softly that Malfoy wasn’t even sure if she had spoken them. It could have very well been his imagination. His very overactive, overexcited imagination.

She pressed her body into his and her fingers entwined themselves in his hair. “Do that one thing,” she breathed in his ear.

“What thing?” asked Malfoy, kissing her neck and starting to get really turned on.

“You know what I Iike, Goyle,” she practically purred.

Malfoy froze. Did she just say fucking Goyle? Malfoy untangled her fingers from his hair and rolled her away from him. Her eyes were closed, and she still had that sweet angelic expression on her face. Her breathing was slow and even. Malfoy stared at her with his mouth slightly open and watched her sleep. Fuck! She was dreaming about fucking Goyle. Again. After a while, Hermione turned over and started snoring slightly. Malfoy angrily flipped over on his other side so he wouldn’t have to look at her anymore. That night, Malfoy went to bed angry and very frustrated. Hermione, however, drifted off into a blissfully contented sleep with a smirk on her face. Sucker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Malfoy didn’t get what you were probably hoping for, but I think he got what he deserved. :)


	21. Outstanding Ohs

Hermione woke up feeling warm and cozy, more than likely because instead of a blanket, she was wearing Malfoy. He had his arm and leg wrapped around her as if he didn’t ever want her to leave. She could barely move; he held her so tightly. Maybe he really was a snuggler. Nah. It was more likely he was just a bed hog. He always did seem to have a problem sharing. Either way, it felt kind of nice. She couldn’t ever remember sleeping better, although she would never admit that to Malfoy or anyone else for that matter. It was bad enough admitting it to herself. Of course, he probably purposely positioned himself like this before he fell asleep just so she couldn’t go off looking for her wand. As if a little thing like breaking his arm and leg off would stand in her way. 

She forcefully pried his hands off of her and quickly got out of bed before he could reclaim her as his personal teddy bear. The room felt cool and she grudgingly missed the warmth of Malfoy’s body. He was surprisingly warm for a cold-blooded Slytherin. Part of her wanted to crawl back in bed and snuggle some more, even if it was with Malfoy, but she had a wand to find and a journal to read. Besides, snuggling with Malfoy was just wrong. The sun hadn’t come up yet, so hopefully, she had some time before Malfoy woke up. Luckily, he looked dead to the world. She was pretty sure he hadn’t gotten to sleep very easily after her little stunt last night. Served him right though. She couldn’t help still smirking about it. 

Hermione finally got down to business and started looking around Malfoy’s room in search of her missing wand. She wished she had a flashlight. It was so dark. Well, she had already checked the dresser and the wardrobe last night pretty thoroughly, so she doubted it was there. She felt under the bed and checked the floor for loose boards. She felt along the walls and in the curtains. She even tried to check behind the portraits, which obviously had permanent sticking charms. The people in the portraits weren’t very happy about being disturbed and watched her search the rest of the room with angry mistrustful eyes. They said a few choice words to her but at least they didn’t call her a Mudblood at the top of their lungs like some portraits. Hermione was so used to Mrs. Black’s rants that she barely noticed it anymore. Most of the Blacks were not very pleasant people. She wasn’t too surprised Malfoy was related.

The only place left to check was the bed. She carefully slid her arm between the mattresses as far as she could but couldn’t feel a thing. She felt under the covers with mounting disappointment and then eyed Malfoy rather warily. He was only wearing boxer shorts for goodness sake. He couldn’t possibly be hiding her wand in there. Could he? Well, she couldn’t turn back now. She needed her wand. She took a deep breath and crawled on the bed over to Malfoy. God help her, but she was going to willingly grope him. She took a deep breath and started feeling around tentatively with her hand. Nope. Not her wand anyway. As a result of her somewhat thorough search, Malfoy started moaning in his sleep. Oops! It seemed her wand searching had inadvertently given him a little wake up call. Hermione quickly leaped off the bed before any accidental sex could be initiated. She distinctly heard one of the portraits say, “disgraceful.”

Hermione was starting to feel rather hopeless about her situation. Her wand just wasn’t there. Then it finally dawned on her. Of course it wasn’t there. Malfoy’s room was way too obvious. He would expect her to search his room. And he knew how thorough she was. She needed to think more like a Slytherin. That shouldn’t be too hard. She had been spending enough time with them lately. Well, it was unlikely it was in Ron and Harry’s room. Malfoy couldn’t stand them, and anyway he probably figured she would sleep in their room when he let the whirlwind loose in hers. And it definitely wouldn’t be in any of the rooms they shared like the bathroom, kitchen or study. He was probably too scared to go in the basement or the attic. He was such a wuss. Most of the other bedrooms were locked. That only left the twins’ room. Of course. It was perfect. Why would she ever want to go in there? She wouldn’t. Well, until now that is.

Hermione silently crept out of Malfoy’s bedroom. She was quite surprised not to see any Whiz-Bangs out in the hallway. It was strangely quiet, in fact. Before she went to the twins’ room to look for her wand, she decided to stop by her room to check on the whirlwind and see if she could get some clothes. Wearing Malfoy’s shirt and especially his boxer shorts was a little unnerving. Hermione was dying to take them off. So, she carefully cracked open the door and peeked inside. She was completely shocked at what she saw. Or rather who she saw.

“Goyle?”

“Hello, Granger,” said Goyle in his deep sexy voice. Yeah, yeah, she thought it was sexy. Blah, blah, blah.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“For you.”

“But how did you get here?”

“Lupin.”

Hermione sighed. She had forgotten how talking to Goyle was sometimes very much like talking to a rock. “Why?”

This time Goyle sighed. “I’m under the Order’s protection. My father decided it was time for me to follow in his footsteps and join the Death Eaters. I didn’t want to. I’m rather fond of Muggleborns, you know. Well, one anyway.”

“Oh,” gasped Hermione. Not good, not good. “And you’re staying here?” she barely squeaked out.

“Yes.” Goyle smirked.

“Oh,” replied Hermione. Oh, God.

“Oh yes,” said Goyle, pulling her through the door and closing it. 

Hermione could feel herself getting sucked back in. There was just something about him. She could almost feel herself losing her common sense the minute she was close to him. And it kind of pissed her off. Instead of him being stupid like he was supposed to be, she was the idiot. Because, why else would she sleep with him? Having sex with Goyle was the absolute definition of the word stupidity. There had to be some logical explanation for it. Stupidity and Hermione Granger did not go together. At all. It was like a serious Fred or George, a spoiled Harry, a tactful Ron, an arrogant Neville, a sane Luna, a cuddly Snape. It was like a kind, thoughtful, selfless, non-annoying Malfoy. It just didn’t make sense. 

Maybe it was some kind of reverse stupidity spell that Goyle was using on her if there was such a thing (she would have to look that up) or maybe she was trapped in some alternate reality. A really bizarre alternate reality where having sex with Goyle seemed like a good idea. The whole thing had to be Goyle’s fault. He was definitely up to something. And why was he really here? “Wait a minute. How do I know this is the truth? That you’re here under the Order’s protection?” asked Hermione, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

Goyle shrugged his shoulders as though it didn’t really bother him much and handed her a letter. It was from Lupin. She recognized the handwriting.

“He wanted to tell you personally, but it seems you were somewhat occupied with Malfoy. And in his room, no less,” said Goyle, rolling his eyes but frowning a bit. “Lupin muttered something about having seen enough of the two of you for one night and decided just to leave a note.”

Hermione blushed. She really hoped Goyle didn’t know about her little snack attack earlier. Not that she thought Remus would actually say anything about that particular awkward moment. She was quite sure he was probably trying to Obliviate that little episode from his memory. Goyle just always seemed to know things. It was kind of freaky. “Nothing was going on. I just needed a place to sleep. You know, with the whirlwind and all.”

Goyle raised his eyebrows. “So, you weren’t messing around in there?”

“Well, maybe messing with each other's heads, that’s all.”

“And the knickers?”

Ah, the knickers. She was wondering when they would get to that. “Well, that’s a rather long story, but I’m sure whatever Malfoy told you was a lie. I took them off myself for reasons I’d rather not get into and was holding them in my hands on the Floo ride over when Malfoy stole them from me. I didn’t even know he had them. Believe me, there was no fun involved. On either side.”

“Not like when I took your knickers?”

Hermione blushed again. “No, it wasn’t like that at all.” 

“Good.”

“So, Remus thought Malfoy and I were, uh…”

“Yes.”

“Well, we weren’t,” said Hermione huffily.

“I trust you.”

“And Remus got rid of the whirlwind?”

“And the Whiz-Bangs.”

“Oh.” She hoped they didn’t figure out that Malfoy took her wand. Maybe they thought she just hadn’t found the time to take care of the whirlwind and Whiz-Bangs yet.

“Malfoy took your wand, didn’t he?”

Or not. Shit. “No, of course not, I just um…”

“Thought you’d let them wreak havoc all over the house?”

“No, I’ve just been busy is all.”

“To busy to flick your wand?”

“Well, Malfoy is a lot of work. Well, he is!” said Hermione, not liking the look that Goyle was giving her.

“Oh, I’m sure he is, but I’m sure if you had your wand, it wouldn’t be very difficult for you to stun him and then take care of a little wind and a few fire crackers.” 

“A little wind and a few fire crackers! Are you serious?”

“Are you saying you couldn’t handle it, even with your wand?”

“Of course I could handle it!” snapped Hermione. She couldn’t plead stupidity. She just couldn’t. “I maybe could have stunned him if I was a mean Slytherin asshole, but I wouldn’t have felt right treating him like that. I have more respect for people than that,” said Hermione as condescendingly as she could.

“You show respect to Malfoy? Yeah right. Liar, liar. You’d better be careful or you’re going to set Malfoy’s boxer shorts on fire.”

Lie. Just keep on lying. She wouldn’t be caught dead wearing Malfoy’s boxer shorts, and she didn’t want to be caught living and breathing in them either. Especially by Goyle. “These aren’t Malfoy’s. They’re mine. I always wear boxer shorts to bed because they’re so comfortable.”

“In Slytherin green?” asked Goyle skeptically.

“Well, House unity and all.” Fuck. House unity? Really? She kind of did suck at lying.

“You are the worst liar I have ever met and, believe me, I have met quite a few. You’re worse than Crabbe, for Merlin’s sake.”

Hermione couldn’t help looking affronted by that comment, as well she should be. Worse than Crabbe? It was completely unacceptable to be worse than Crabbe at anything. “I’m sure I’m better than Crabbe. If I really was lying, that is.”

“House unity?”

“Have something against that?”

“No, I’m all for it. I’m all ready to ‘unite’,” said Goyle, emphasizing the last word and stepping closer to her. “Especially with my favorite Gryffindor.”

Hermione swallowed hard. Goyle always got her so flustered. She was beginning to feel a little hot. And bothered. Mostly bothered though. “In your dreams, Goyle.”

“In your dreams, Granger.”

Maybe. “Not.”

“Well, I hope you’re really not lying, Granger. You never know when you’ll need a wand,” said Goyle, withdrawing his own wand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and then letting it slowly slide down her neck.

Hermione didn’t like where this or his wand was going and swiped it away angrily. “Alright, I don’t have my fucking wand. Happy? That prick stole it, but I’m getting it back now. As soon as you’re through bothering me anyway. And by the way, I don’t know why they let you keep your wand. It should have been confiscated like Malfoy’s.”

“I’m not a prisoner here like Malfoy. I’m here for protection only. I’m the victim here.”

“Yeah, right. You’re completely innocent, aren’t you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m innocent, but then again neither are you,” said Goyle with a smirk.

“Fuck off, Goyle.”

“Don’t be like that, Granger. Don’t you want to have a little fun?”

“Not with you.”

“Oh, are you too worn out from Malfoy?” He said it like it was rhetorical, but Hermione knew it was not. 

Hermione glared at him. “What if I told you I was?”

Goyle pulled her in closer and whispered in her ear. “Then I would be very, very disappointed. Of course, I’m willing to bet that Malfoy didn’t wear you out the way I do.”

“I don’t know. You both wear on my nerves equally.”

“Is that why you can’t decide between us?”

Hermione glared at him again. “I am not trying to decide between the two of you. That’s absolutely ridiculous. There isn’t even a lesser of two evils to choose from. You’re both equally horrid. And so, so… Slytherin!”

“What do they say about protesting too much?”

Hermione did not like being accused of liking Slytherins. It was very insulting, indeed. “I have a boyfriend, you know. And it’s not you or Malfoy,” blurted out Hermione.

“Do you really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Huh.”

“Is that all you have to say about it?” asked Hermione angrily.

“I’m not really all that concerned about it, to tell you the truth.”

“What! Well, you should be. He could kick your ass.”

“I’ll take my chances. And I’m quite sure that whoever it is, I could kick his ass.”

“Well, probably,” conceded Hermione. “But aren’t you even the least bit upset that I have a boyfriend?” Did nothing faze Goyle? Was he even human?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t make a difference. You’re still going to shag me.”

“Humph,” huffed Hermione. However, she was slightly concerned that she didn’t deny it.

“Doesn’t it upset you?” asked Goyle.

“What?”

“That you have a boyfriend.”

“Why would that upset me?” asked Hermione exasperatedly.

“I just thought that you might feel a little guilty when you’re shagging me.”

“I never said I was going to shag you.”

“You already have.”

“That doesn’t mean that I will do it again.”

“But you will,” said Goyle confidently, while he tucked that stupid curl back behind her ear again.

“I won’t,” said Hermione, not wavering. Much.

“Did I ever tell you that you are a terrible liar?” asked Goyle, starting to nibble on her ear.

“You may have mentioned it. Is it really that obvious?”

“Well, I’m not as stupid as I look, apparently,” said Goyle, kissing her throat.

“Apparently,” said Hermione, her breath catching.

Goyle started unbuttoning her shirt but then looked at her suspiciously. “Is this Malfoy’s shirt?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly.

Goyle smirked and then ripped it open scattering buttons everywhere.”

Hermione gasped. “Fuck, Goyle. Malfoy’s going to kill me. Supposedly, this was his favorite shirt.”

“Maybe we should do something that would kill him,” said Goyle, trailing his finger down her bare skin.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “You’re going to kill him?” she asked in disbelief.

“Correction. We’re going to kill him,” replied Goyle, calmly sliding Malfoy’s shirt off of her shoulders.

Hermione shivered involuntarily. Perhaps her wand was needed after all. Not to kill Malfoy, of course, but to save him. He was an annoying asshole, but she would grudgingly save him if she had to. More than likely anyway. Too bad for him he took her fucking wand. He could save his own ass. “I’m not using an Unforgivable. That would be, um, unforgivable,” finished Hermione lamely. 

We’re not going to kill him, kill him. Just make him wish he were dead. There are more fun ways to take care of Malfoy than an Avada Kedavra,” said Goyle, backing up Hermione toward the bed.

“Oh,” said Hermione, realization dawning.

“Oh, yes,” said Goyle, pushing her down on the bed. Then with his lips almost touching hers, he looked deep into her eyes and said, “Just make sure you call out my name this time.” Then his lips came crashing down on hers and not unlike the whirlwind that had just ravaged her room, he completely blew her away. In more ways than one. And when the time came, Hermione, being the quick study that she was, got it exactly right. 

“Oh, oh… Goyle!” screamed Hermione loud and clear. After she was finished, she collapsed back onto the bed with a smile on her face, feeling as though her N.E.W.T. s had come early. She had just earned herself a well-deserved ‘O’. And it was outstanding.


	22. Picture Perfect

Sitting up in bed, Hermione blinked the stars out of her eyes and looked over at the Slytherin lying next to her. Shit! She did it again. She said she wouldn’t do it again and she did. She didn’t like being wrong even if it was to her benefit. And, oh, was it. Hermione flushed in embarrassment. She couldn’t believe that had just happened. What was she thinking? Okay, she totally knew what she was thinking, but she should not have been thinking it! Her heart was still racing, and she was having trouble catching her breath. What a nightmare! Well, not a nightmare exactly. There were definitely worse ways to wake up.

And at least she hadn’t woken him up. Thankfully, he didn’t have a clue that she had just had an orgasm in his bed as a result of dreaming about Goyle. Again. At least this time she hadn’t been dreaming about something that really happened. She was pretty sure she would Avada herself if Goyle really turned up at Grimmauld Place. Being cooped up with one Slytherin was quite enough trouble to be getting on with, thank you very much. Ugh, she just had a sex dream with Malfoy right next to her. She was seriously disturbed. At least she didn’t have accidental sex with him which, as it turned out, could have been a real possibility. 

She looked down at Malfoy and couldn’t help but smile. He looked so cute sleeping with that scowl on his face. She had a vague idea that the reason she was so enamored with that particular scowl was because she had put it there. And he said, she was a sucker! She totally out-Slytherined him. She wished she could have seen his face when she ‘accidentally’ called him Goyle in her sleep. The way she had imagined it was too funny. She even had to turn away from him to hide her smirk. It was really too bad she couldn’t gloat about tricking him, but it was much better if he thought she really had been sleeping. Besides, she didn’t want him to know that she had willingly let him touch her. 

Which she had. And she really didn’t want to have to explain how she was able to ‘pretend’ that she enjoyed it. She doubted Malfoy would believe it was all because of her great acting skills. Hell, she didn’t even believe that. Although, she did nail her final line. It was Oscar worthy, really. Ha! He thought he couldn’t be tricked. He was the sucker this time! And he thought he could freak her out just by touching her. Well, maybe he did a little but not in the way he thought. She hadn’t really expected to actually like being touched by Malfoy. Yuck. That was something of a shock, but it sure made her performance a lot easier. 

However, when his hand started sliding up toward her breasts, she wasn’t sure what she should do. Or rather what she wanted to do. To slap or not to slap. That was the question. She liked to think she would have hauled off and slapped the shit out of him, but she wasn’t so sure. She was relieved and, if she was really honest with herself, a little bit disappointed when his hand had stopped roaming up her shirt. However, it was good to know that she wasn’t stuck in a house with a total perv who would do stuff to her in her sleep. He was still an ass though. And after what happened last night, he would probably be even worse than usual (if that was possible) since he was definitely going to wake up on the wrong side of the bed today. But before he did, she had things to do.

After her very vivid dream, she had a pretty good idea that Malfoy had really hidden her wand in the twins’ room. The dream had been beneficial in more ways than one. Her subconscious was a genius. It totally made sense. Well, if you were a sneaky Slytherin, that is. Now that she thought about it, he had even told her to go sleep in the twins’ room. Well, she knew reverse psychology when she heard it; and it was laughable that he had even tried to use it on her. It was a Muggle thing after all. And this Muggleborn wasn’t falling for it. 

Of course, it wouldn’t hurt to do a quick search of the room while he was sleeping. This may be her only chance. Correction, would be her only chance. Unless something catastrophic happened, she was never sleeping with Malfoy again. Ever. Oh, who was she kidding? With the way her life was going, it was very likely indeed that some sort of catastrophic event would happen. And more than likely, the catastrophe would end up being something that would totally humiliate her. It seemed fate had a horribly sadistic sense of humor. Fate was probably a Slytherin or maybe a Weasley. Either way, she was screwed.

Hermione decided to search the bed first since she was already in it. God help her if Harry and Ron ever found out she had slept with Malfoy, even though they really had been just sleeping (for the most part). Ron would totally see that as just a technicality, and Harry would probably agree. Sleeping with Sytherins was a definite no no for any self-respecting Gryffindor. Luckily, they probably wouldn’t believe that she slept with Goyle, even if she said so herself. Hermione felt underneath all of the bedding and even felt inside the pillows. She was very careful not to disturb Malfoy. Best to let sleeping morons lie. Besides, she had a great wake up call planned for him. She lifted up the covers and peeked at Malfoy in his boxer shorts. She really didn’t think he could hide a wand in there, but what if her subconscious was trying to tell her something. She really didn’t feel comfortable groping him while he was sleeping, after all, he hadn’t groped her. Much. So, she leaned in a little closer to see if she could see anything poking out of his boxers.

Then she heard a cold arrogant voice snidely say, “Didn’t get enough last night?”

Hermione’s head snapped up. She quickly looked at Malfoy, but he still appeared to be sleeping. His breathing was slow and steady. Thank God. She needed to find her wand before he woke up. Maybe he was just talking in his sleep. Dobby had said he did that. It sure scared the crap out of her though. Her heart was racing a mile a minute.

“That was some dream you had. It almost got me off as well,” said the same sarcastic voice.

Fuck! She was fairly sure that Malfoy wasn’t a ventriloquist, even if he did hang out with dummies. There was someone else in the room. Someone who had been there all night. Hermione quickly surveyed her surroundings. It was so dark; she couldn’t see anyone, and there wasn’t anything close by to grab to protect herself. She was utterly defenseless. As a last resort, Hermione picked up her pillow. Maybe she could smother him to death. “Who are you?”

“None of your fucking business, Mudblood.”

Death Eater. Great. “What are you doing here?” asked Hermione, stalling for time until she could come up with a little bit better of a plan than a fucking pillow fight. 

“I hang around here sometimes,” he said with a malicious laugh.

It must have been an inside joke because she didn’t get it. However, even if she had, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have found it very funny. “How did you get in here?” She was debating if she should wake up Malfoy. Not that he would be very helpful or anything, but at least she wouldn’t feel so alone. There was a fifty percent chance he would be on her side and maybe they could outnumber this asshole. She nudged him, but he didn’t move. God, he slept like Ron. Just her luck.

“This is my house, Mudblood.”

Alright, enough with the Mudblood comments. Hermione was starting to get a little angry, but at least her Gryffindor courage was finally starting to kick in. Who did this prick think he was? “No, it isn’t. This house belongs to Harry Potter. You are trespassing.”

“A Potter. My house belongs to a fucking Potter! Don’t fuck with me, Mudblood.”

“I don’t fuck with Death Eaters.” That I know of, she silently added.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” asked Hermione angrily but with a slight edge of fear in her voice.

“I heard you yell out Goyle’s name before. The Goyle I know is a Death Eater. So, I’m betting you’ve fucked one,” he said coldly.

Hermione paled. Goyle was a Death Eater? Shit. She had to get out of here. The room was too dark. She couldn’t see properly. It was difficult to tell, but the voice seemed to be coming from somewhere in front of her. She would either have to pass by him to get to the door or climb over Malfoy. Either way, she doubted she could make it there without a fight. She could kill Malfoy for hiding her wand. Well, if she couldn’t see this mysterious Death Eater, maybe he couldn’t see her either. Maybe if she was quiet and didn’t make any sudden movements, she could make it to the door. She slowly slid her left leg over Malfoy to get to the other side of the bed. She was straddling Malfoy when the voice spoke again.

“Why don’t you just fuck the little prick already.”

Hermione froze. This was so not the position she wanted to be in right now. Malfoy, on the other hand, who incredibly enough was still sleeping, by the way, didn’t seem to mind it so much as she felt him start to grind his hips into her. Perfect. “Why don’t you just fuck off?”

“Ooh, you’re a feisty one, aren’t you? No wonder he wants to bang a lowly Mudblood like you.”

“He doesn’t want to bang me,” said Hermione, a little more confidently than she felt, considering Malfoy started to moan as well as grinding against her more aggressively. If she didn’t get off him soon, he would be the one getting off. She carefully lifted her leg off of him and stepped down to the floor. 

“Over so soon?” the voice said with mock concern. “The Malfoys always were selfish pricks,” said the voice, suddenly coming from behind her. Hermione jumped and turned around, but she couldn’t see anything. However, she cautiously backed away toward the other side of the room.

“You know Malfoy?” she asked. He certainly did have him pegged; that was for sure.

“I knew his father. Same difference.”

“He’s not like his father,” Hermione said without thinking. Shit! Did she really believe that? Maybe. Yes, she did. Malfoy was a lot of things, but he wasn’t his father. And that was a completely new revelation to her.

“Perhaps you would know best,” he said slyly.

“What do you want?” asked Hermione, glaring into the darkness.

“Your life,” he replied coldly.

Hermione’s eyes widened in terror, and she stepped back away from him again. She backed up towards the far wall.

From right behind her, the voice whispered menacingly in her ear, “Boo!” 

“Ahhhh!” Hermione screamed. She was completely terrified. However, she was a Gryffindor, and she wasn’t going down without a fight. A pillow fight, apparently. So, she turned around and slammed her pillow right into… the wall. Or rather, a picture on the wall. She slowly lowered her pillow and found herself looking directly into the face of one of the Black family portraits. A fucking picture had just scared the living shit out of her. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” asked Hermione angrily.

“Do you really think I’m going to introduce myself to a Mudblood?”

Hermione glared at him. It was dark, but from what she could make out of him, he looked to be about her age. He appeared to be rather handsome in a haughty, snooty kind of way. Whoever he was, he was obviously full of himself. Hermione leaned in and squinted to read the plaque on the portrait. Then she looked back up at him incredulously. “You’re Regulus Black,” said Hermione, slightly stunned. “Son of a bitch.” Then she almost laughed. Yes, he really was a son of a bitch. His mother was the absolute rudest portrait she had ever met. Until now, that is. Fucking Slytherin prick of a portrait.

“Yes, I’m ‘the’ Regulus Black. What’s it to you, Mudblood?”

Hermione glared at him. She didn’t like the ‘the’ he had added in front of his name. He reminded her of another self-absorbed prat. “I only know who you are because you’re Sirius Black’s Muggle-hating, Death Eater, little brother. You’re not famous or anything.”

“No? Well, I should be,” said Regulus bitterly.

“Why do you think you should be famous? Were you voted Death Eater of the Year or something? Did you get a gold star from Voldemort?” asked Hermione sarcastically.

“You shut your filthy mouth,” snapped Regulus.

“What? It’s not my fault nobody remembers Death Eater scum like you.”

“I said, shut the hell up, Mudblood.”

“Stop calling me a Mudblood! If you hate me so much, why don’t you do us both a favor and just disappear!”

“This is my house. You leave.”

“No, it’s not. You’re dead. Or did you forget about your so called pure-blood friends stabbing you in the back?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no idea how I died.”

“And you’re obviously not going to tell me, so why should I care?”

“I don’t know. I just thought you would, Hermione,” he said, drawing out her name.

“How do you know my name?”

“I know all kinds of things about you.” He smirked. “I do reside here, you know.”

“Yes, but you don’t 'live' here anymore, do you?” asked Hermione snidely.

“Aren’t you clever for a Mudblood?”

“I’m clever for a witch.”

“I think you spelled that wrong. Didn’t you mean bitch?”

“Listen, you two-dimensional piece of shit. I don’t have time for this. So, why don’t you go back to whatever it is you were doing before you started bothering me and leave me the hell alone,” snapped Hermione.

“Oh, am I keeping you from something?”

“Not anymore,” said Hermione, as she turned and walked toward the door. Then she remembered the journal and went back to get it. She took one last look at Malfoy before she slipped out the door. Unbelievable. He was still sleeping but now, instead of a scowl, he had a smile on his face. She was really hoping she didn’t put that there. Hermione much preferred the scowl.

The moment she stepped into the hallway, she was surrounded by Whiz-Bangs and had to make a run for the twins’ room. Hermione was almost happy to see the Whiz-Bangs because it was proof that her dream was just a dream. Unless she was a seer (which was absolutely preposterous), she didn’t have to worry about Goyle becoming a guest of Grimmauld Place anytime soon. Just as she got to the door, a Whiz-Bang got her right in the ass. She yelped and flung herself into the twins’ room, promptly tripping over a box and falling flat on her face. She heard someone or rather something snicker. 

“Quite and entrance, I must say. And by the way, nice ass, Hermione.”

Oh great. He could travel to other rooms to? Perfect. He could annoy her all over the house. She switched on the light and twisted her head back to look at the damage to her clothes, well Malfoy’s clothes anyway. There was a big hole in Malfoy’s shirt, and it went straight through his boxer shorts. Her ass was totally hanging out, and there wasn’t much she could do about it. She looked up at him to give him her worst glare but then stopped. Oh God. He was perfect. He had dark wavy hair and gray eyes that glinted dangerously in the light. As Ginny would say, ‘he was fucking hot.’ Too bad he was an asshole. And dead. The whole dead thing was really a deal breaker. God. What was she thinking? Lusting after a dead Death Eater’s picture. Really pathetic. She needed to get out more. She seemed to be developing a taste for Slytherins, and that was not good. So not good. She was staring.

“So, you want to fuck me now, too? Sorry, I don’t do Mudbloods.”

She’d heard that one before. “You don’t do anyone. You’re dead.”

“Ah, but if I wasn’t dead, I still wouldn’t do you.”

“I’m real concerned. Like I care.”

“You’ll just dream about me, right? You do have a vivid imagination.”

“Shut up. Just tell me where it is, and we’ll never have to speak to each other again.”

“Where what is?”

“Don’t play stupid with me. I know you’ve been spying around here. Or was it just me you were spying on. Like Mudbloods a little more than you’re letting on?”

“Why would I tell you where your wand is and ruin all of the fun?”

“You call this fun?”

“I’m a fucking portrait. My fun is spying on people, watching you undress and living vicariously through you while you’re having orgasms. And now I’ve found that I rather enjoy annoying you, as well.”

Hermione blushed despite her anger. “You’ve watched me undress?”

“I have a portrait in your room.”

“What!”

“I have portraits all over the house. I was my mother’s favorite,” said Regulus, smiling evilly.

Fucking Slytherins. That was three now that had seen her naked, even though one was just a perverted portrait. Almost four, really. Crabbe had seen an awful lot during their stupid little game of strip studying. She didn’t even like Slytherins. “Why don’t you go hang yourself?” She got the whole hanging around comment now that he had laughed about earlier. 

“Why don’t you nail me?”

“Why don’t you go to hell? Oh, sorry. That would be redundant since you are probably already there.”

“Better to be in hell than be a goody-goody Gryffindor. Although you’re not such a goody-goody anymore, are you, Hermione?”

“Shut up.” She absolutely hated the way he said her name like it was a dirty word or something. “Why do you keep calling me Hermione, anyway?” she asked exasperatedly.

“Because it’s your name, and I get tired of calling you Mudblood all of the time.”

“What I mean,” said Hermione, through gritted teeth, ”is that every other Slytherin I know calls me, Granger. Isn’t there something in the Slytherin rule book about being a prick and not using first names?”

“Well, under normal circumstances if I wasn’t calling you a Mudblood, I would call you, Granger, but Malfoy calls you that.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t like Malfoy.”

“Why ever not? You have so much in common, with you both being annoying Slytherin prats and all.”

“The Malfoys are a bunch of arrogant bastards.”

“Yes, and the Blacks are all so charming,” replied Hermione sarcastically. “Do you talk to Malfoy when you’re in his room?”

“Why would I talk to that prat?”

“I don’t know. You could revel in your Slytherin-ness, share evil thoughts, plot new and improved ways to annoy me.”

“That might almost be worth it.”

“Well, if you don’t talk to Malfoy, and you don’t like him, then why do you hang out in his room?”

“I don’t hang out in his room. I hardly ever go in that room. That’s the guest room where we always put people that we want to leave. It’s a horrid room.”

“Then how do you seem to know everything that’s been going on? Wait a minute. Are you stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t say stalking, per say. I’m just keeping tabs on you. Making sure you don’t steal the silver.”

“Right. This is my third summer in this house, and I’ve never stolen anything. And I’m nowhere near the silver when I’m undressing. Besides, you must be watching me while I’m sleeping if you know about my dreams,” said Hermione, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re a fucking peeping Tom; that's what you are.”

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Regulus smirked.

“Maybe I’ll get you a nice set of curtains to match your mother’s.” Hermione smirked even more evilly.

Fear and anger flashed through Regulus’s stormy eyes. “What do you want, Mudblood?”

“My wand,” said Hermione happily. She knew Regulus knew where it was. Being able to find her wand with so little effort almost made the whole picture-stalking thing worth it. Almost. Dead or not, it really sucked having another Slytherin in the house annoying her. However, once she got her wand back, Malfoy was as good as toast. 

“No curtains?” he asked grudgingly. 

“No stalking?”

“I don’t make promises to Mudbloods.”

“If you hate Mudbloods so much, why are you wasting your time stalking one?”

He smirked. “Sometimes it feels good to get a little dirty.”

Hermione glared. “Just tell me where my fucking wand is.”

“Over in that box by the bed. He thought he was rather clever. Idiot.”

Hermione went over to the box and when she opened it, she started laughing. It was filled with fake wands. Malfoy really was an idiot. She rummaged through it until she found her wand and then, as an afterthought, pulled out a fake one as well. She had a pretty good idea what she could do with it.

“I don’t even know why you want your wand back so badly. A Mudblood like you probably doesn’t even know what to do with a wand. Magic wise, anyway,” said Regulus crudely.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You’re the Mudblood.”

Regulus was really starting to get on her nerves. She’d lost count how many times he had called her a Mudblood already and their acquaintance was a short one. He was mean and rude and had extremely bad manners. He needed to be taught a lesson. Unfortunately, her wand probably wouldn’t work on him with all of those damn charms his mother put on everything. Otherwise, she would totally blast the shit out of him. “If you call me a Mudblood one more time, I’m going to, to…” stammered Hermione.

”What? Stutter? Wave your wand uselessly? Look even more like a stupid Mudblood!”

“Stupid? Did you just call me stupid? That’s it! You’re dead!” Hermione could have hit herself the moment she said it. It was the very worst threat she could have used. Of course, he was dead because he was, well, already dead. Hermione felt like a complete idiot. And to make matters worse, he started laughing. At her. So, she did the only thing she could think of to get back at him and shut him up at the same time. She kissed him. And even as she stepped back from his portrait in complete shock with an expression of horror on her face, she couldn’t help noticing his startling gray eyes glinting wickedly back at her as a smirk began to form on his surprisingly soft lips. Oh, fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: Regulus was added into this story for the sole reason that so many of my readers were concerned that Goyle wasn’t handsome enough for Hermione. So, I gave them a Slytherin who was drop dead gorgeous. An unfortunate emphasis on the dead part maybe, but whatever. Nobody’s perfect. :)


	23. Wakey Wakey

“Well, I guess I should have seen that coming,” said Regulus, still smirking. “You do seem to have a thing for us Slytherins. I have to admit though, that for a Mudblood kiss, it wasn’t all that horrible. Not repulsive at all, in fact.”

Hermione was too stunned to be insulted. “Holy shit! Is that how it always feels?” she breathed incredulously, pressing her fingers to her lips. “So real?” Her lips were still tingling.

“How the fuck would I know? Who the fuck else would even think to kiss a portrait?” replied Regulus rather rudely.

Hermione snapped back to reality and her eyes narrowed. Who indeed? Obviously, only a crazy person. This was all Malfoy’s fault. He was slowly driving her insane. “But how is that even possible?” she persisted.

“Hell if I know. Want to experiment?” asked Regulus, raising his eyebrows and smirking even more at her. 

The Slytherin smirk, that’s what it was. There must be directions for doing it in their stupid Slytherin handbook. They probably practiced in front of the mirror to get it just right. She hated that fucking smirk. She hated it on Malfoy. She hated it on Goyle. And now she really hated it on Regulus. It was, perhaps, the stupidest expression she had ever seen. So, why did she find it so damn sexy? Note to self, stay away from Crabbe. “Absolutely not! I most certainly do not want to ‘experiment’ with you!”

“Aren’t you even curious? How far we could go,” said Regulus suggestively.

“No!”

“Come on, Hermione. Just touch me,” said Regulus, giving her a wink.

“I am not touching you,” said Hermione with a look of disgust on her face.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird. And creepy. And very wrong!”

“You know you want to,” said Regulus seductively.

“I most certainly do not.”

“Not even for academic purposes?” he asked slyly.

“Well…” Hermione thought about the possibilities. It was certainly an interesting topic to research. In all of her reading, she had never come across anything remotely like what had just happened to her. It was perhaps unprecedented. Of course, it’s not like she could actually turn it in for extra credit or anything. The effects of snogging and groping a portrait was not really something you could write a research paper on, no matter how fascinating the subject matter. What would Professor McGonagall say? But she was curious. Academically speaking, of course. What would happen if she did touch him? “No, I don’t think so. Nice try though.”

“Scared of kissing me again?”

“That’s not going to work either,” said Hermione adamantly.

“It always seems to work for Malfoy,” sneered Regulus.

“Well, it’s not going to work this time. Why would you even want to kiss me? Mudblood, remember?”

“Why would you want to kiss a portrait?” Regulus shot back.

“I have no fucking clue anymore. For some reason, it didn’t seem like such a stupid idea at the time. I only did it to piss you off and shut you up. All I know is that you weren’t supposed to enjoy it.”

“Who said I enjoyed it? Did you enjoy it?” asked Regulus slyly.

“That is not what I’m saying and, anyway, that’s beside the point. You are the one who wants to do it again. Not me,” huffed Hermione.

“You did enjoy it,” said Regulus, smiling like the evil bastard he was.

“I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it. It was just shocking is all. I didn’t expect your lips to be so… soft,” she said, faltering slightly.

“After that kiss, I can tell you that not all of me is so… soft. If you know what I mean.”

“I don’t even want to know about that. Like I really care about the personal problems of some piece of crap painting.”

“I’ll, have you know that my portrait was painted by a very well-respected artist,” said Regulus indignantly.

“Perhaps it’s just the subject of the painting that I find so distasteful,” quipped Hermione.

“Do you always kiss the subjects you find so distasteful?” asked Regulus, not sounding the least bit insulted.

“Apparently,” grumbled Hermione.

“How about other things? Do you do other things as well?”

“I’m not touching you!”

“Why? I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to do anything but leave me alone.”

“What if I told you something about that journal you’re holding? Would you touch me then?”

“You know something about this journal?” asked Hermione too quickly. Shit. This job really sucked. Why did she have to be such a conscientious worker?

Regulus smiled. He knew he had her. “I am an excellent spy. I know all sorts of things. Perhaps, we could work out some sort of arrangement.”

“You are disgusting, and I hate you. What kind of arrangement do you have in mind? I’m not doing anything weird.”

“You mean other than kissing me in the first place?”

“Ha, ha. I mean nothing sexual. Just a quick touch with my hand in a non-threatening place. That’s it.”

“Alright. You first.”

“No way. You first. I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust you either.”

“I’m a Gryffindor.”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, alright. Let’s just get this over with.” If she didn’t hurry, Malfoy would be waking up on his own and where would the fun in that be? Hermione tentatively lifted her hand to touch Regulus’s face. Then at the last minute, she reached up to his hair. She was, admittedly, curious. He had very nice hair. Her fingers went into the painting, and she was able to run her fingers through his soft silky hair. In awe, she slowly slid her fingers down his face, feeling along the contours of his strong jaw line. Her fingers halted momentarily underneath his chin and then somehow found their way up to his lips. She gently circled one finger over his lips entranced by their unexpected softness. Then she gasped as Regulus parted his lips and took her whole finger into his mouth and gently sucked on it as he let it slide back out. Hermione’s eyes grew wide, and she snatched her hand away angrily.

“Funny,” mused Regulus. “I thought you would taste more like mud, but you’re rather sweet like vanilla.”

“You, you licked me,” stammered Hermione, furious with herself for letting that just happen.

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “I thought you enjoyed being licked.”

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. “You have a fucking portrait in the kitchen?” accused Hermione.

Regulus replied with a smirk.

“Great! Just fucking great. Never mind. Just tell me what you know about the damn journal.” 

“Well, I don’t know much,” began Regulus.

“That’s not surprising,” said Hermione sarcastically.

Regulus glared. “However, I did see him writing in it while you were ‘sleeping’ in his room the other day. And I do use the term ‘sleeping’ loosely, as I think we all know you were doing a bit more than just sleeping.”

This time Hermione glared. “Did he write a lot? Did he do anything suspicious? Is there anything useful you can tell me?”

“He mostly just watched you sleeping and every once in a while he would smile and write something down.”

“What kind of smile? Was it evil? I wonder what he was thinking?” mused Hermione.

“I’m not a fucking mind reader. Why don’t you just read his fucking journal? Isn’t that what they’re for? Recording one’s thoughts.”

“Shut up. And by the way. The whole touching thing? Totally not worth it. You suck as a spy.”

“All I agreed to was to tell you something about the journal. I never claimed to know anything useful. It’s not my fault you suck at making deals.”

“I do not suck.”

Regulus started laughing. “Why don’t we make another deal, and we can investigate that theory?”

Hermione scowled and then opened the journal and started reading. “Oh, my God.”

“What?” asked Regulus. 

“I don’t believe it.”

“Tell me what it fucking says.” He couldn’t help himself. He was curious.

Hermione was so shocked by what she had read that she didn’t even think about it when she responded to him. “Malfoy’s a Death Eater.”

Regulus scoffed. “And you’re surprised by this? He is a Malfoy.”

“I know, but I saw his arm. He didn’t have the Mark.”

“So, maybe he’s just bragging then and isn’t a Death Eater at all. He seems like too much of a wuss to me to actually be a Death Eater anyway.”

“But why would he lie about something like that in a journal. It doesn’t make sense. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Well, maybe they put the Dark Mark somewhere less conspicuous now. The arm was pretty obvious. It was easy to figure out who was a Death Eater or not just by pushing up their sleeve. Maybe they want to keep it more secret now.”

“Where do you think they put it then, his ass?” joked Regulus.

Hermione slowly started nodding. “Yes, that is exactly where I think they put it.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me? His ass? That’s insane.”

“And Voldemort’s not insane? It makes perfect sense. Besides, it’s the only part of Malfoy’s body I haven’t seen.” Oops. Too much information.

Regulus started laughing. “So, now you’re going to check out his ass?”

“Well, I guess I have to. Just to be sure. This could be very important information for the Order,” replied Hermione, quite seriously. God, she was seriously talking about Malfoy’s ass. Her mother would be so proud.

“You’re right. I think you have just made a very important discovery that could very well turn the war in your favor,” began Regulus. “Maybe, they’ll even promote you and then you can check out all of the Death Eaters’ asses. You could be head ass checker for the Order. A step above the ass kisser you are now,” Regulus quipped.

“Yeah, and then maybe if I work hard enough I can be an ass kicker. Maybe we can experiment some more, and I can get some practice in by kicking your ass,” replied Hermione tartly.

“That could be fun. I enjoyed our little experiment last time.” Regulus grinned lasciviously.

Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to the journal. But what she read next almost made her eyes pop out of her head. “Holy shit!”

“Now what part of Malfoy’s body are you going to have to check out?” asked Regulus sarcastically.

Hermione ignored him and kept reading, her mouth falling open from the shock of it. “Oh my God.”

“Stop doing that. What does it fucking say?”

“He’s, um, expressing his feelings,” said Hermione, rather vaguely and blushing a bit.

“Malfoys don’t have feelings.”

“I didn’t think so either, but…”

“Oh, let me guess. He’s expressing his undying love for you,” said Regulus sardonically.

“Sort of,” muttered Hermione.

“Please. You don’t think he really likes you, do you?” asked Regulus incredulously. “The whole idea is laughable at best.”

Of course, Hermione had been thinking that very same thing. It was unlikely that Malfoy really did like her. If he did, he was very good at hiding it. Fucking ass. However, it was one thing when Hermione thought it and quite another when Regulus voiced it. “And why is that so impossible to believe?” asked Hermione angrily. 

“Because you’re a Mudblood,” said Regulus, as if it was completely obvious.

“Stop calling me that!”

“Well, it’s true. You can’t seriously think he’s interested in you.”

“Why not? You’re interested in me!” said Hermione hotly.

Regulus opened his mouth to deny it, but he couldn’t because if he was honest (which he was every once in a while) he was interested in her, Mudblood or not. “Well, if I was interested in you, which I am not saying I am, it’s only because I’m stuck in a house with you, and who the hell else is going to kiss me?”

“Your mother?” suggested Hermione with a smirk.

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

“Malfoy probably wishes, too. I guess he’s stuck with you as well. You’re rather appealing when there’s no other choice.”

“Gee thanks,” said Hermione dryly. “But flattery, shitty as it is, will get you nowhere.” 

“We’ll see about that. I can be quite charming when I want to be.”

“I guess you don’t ever want to be then.”

“Only when I want something, and now I want something.”

“Don’t bother then. My picture fondling days are over. I’m not having some sort of weird relationship with the painting of a dead guy.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m not really a relationship kind of dead guy, anyway,” said Regulus. “I’m not looking to be tied down by some dumb Mudblood.”

“More like nailed to the wall,” retorted Hermione.

“I’m just looking for a little fun.”

“Well, look somewhere else.”

“Is it because I’m dead? Or is it because Malfoy wrote gushy things about you?”

“This isn’t a competition. I don’t like either one of you.”

“But if you had to choose right now, who would it be?”

“Hmm. A dead prat or a living prat? I think I’m going to have to give it to you on this one. The whole dead thing actually gives you a slight edge.”

“So, did Malfoy write gushy things about you?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Too bad you can’t find out if it’s true or not.”

“Who says I can’t?” Hermione smirked. Malfoy was about to get a taste of his own medicine. She would find out the truth and get even with him at the same time. This was going to be so much fun. She got a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“Uh oh. The Mudblood has a plan.”

“You bet your ass I do!” said Hermione, walking determinedly to the door. She looked over her shoulder at Regulus. “You coming?”

“You bet your hot ass I am,“ said Regulus, eyeing her suggestively.

Hermione glared at him and covered up her backside with her hand. “Perv,” she said, slamming the door behind her.

“Meet you there.” Regulus laughed.

Luckily, there were no Whiz-Bangs in the hallway, and Hermione made it to Malfoy’s room without mishap. She quietly snuck into his room and went straight for the purple box. She grabbed the bottle of Truth Bubbles and made her way over to Malfoy. He was still sleeping. Unfortunately, he still had that stupid smile on his face. Well, she could take care of that. She ever so gently climbed on top of him and straddled her legs across him as he had done to her the day before. Little Draco woke up instantly, but Malfoy went on sleeping. 

Regulus started laughing. “Are you going to shag the truth out of him?”

Hermione glared back at him and held up the bottle of Truth Bubbles, waving it in front of his face. She then turned back to Malfoy and carefully poured a drop of the Truth Bubbles into his mouth. It was time for Malfoy’s wake up call. One that he wouldn’t soon forget. She grinned evilly and bent down and whispered in his ear, “Wakey, wakey, Drakey snakey.” 

“Five more minutes,” mumbled Malfoy. “I’m having a really good dream.”

“Am I in it?” asked Hermione, putting a wand to his throat.

Draco’s eyes snapped open. “Fuck.”

“I’m going to really enjoy this, Malfoy.” And with a quick wave of the wand, she yelled, “Avada Kedavra.”

Malfoy screamed in horror and then watched as a pair of underpants came out of the wand. Hermione handed them over to Malfoy. “Here Malfoy. I wanted to give these to you, as I seemed to have ruined yours. Damn Whiz-Bangs.”

“Fuck, Granger. If you hadn’t given me a hard on by sitting on me, I would have pissed in my fucking pants,” said Draco angrily.

“Well, you can’t say I’m not a planner,” replied Hermione, now holding her real wand to his throat. “It serves you right though. Well, the almost pissing in your pants part anyway.”

“That’s fucked up. What would you have done, if you were accidentally holding your real wand and had killed me?”

“I would have said, ‘Oops'.” Hermione could hear Regulus laughing in the background. You could always count on a Death Eater to laugh at a good Avada joke. Malfoy didn’t seem to notice him. Hermione wished she could ignore Regulus so easily.

“Ha ha. Very funny. I thought you said you were going to be responsible if you got your wand back. You call this responsible?” asked Malfoy warily.

“That was if you gave it back to me, which you did not. So, I can do whatever the hell I want!” Hermione smirked. “And by the way, nice hiding place. It wasn’t even a challenge. I didn’t even have to look for it. The box of fake wands was the first place I checked.” She could hear Regulus scoff over that comment. As if she would give him credit. She was so not explaining Regulus to Malfoy. 

“Big fucking deal. You have your wand back. I’m not scared of you, “ sneered Malfoy.

“Well, you should be,” said Hermione, smiling wickedly. “You like games, Malfoy?” Okay, so she totally stole that line from Goyle, but Malfoy didn’t know that. And the look of terror in his eyes right before he hiccupped, and she popped the bubble was priceless.

“I’m scared of the dark.”

Shit. She already knew that one. Why couldn’t he have started off with something good? At least he was looking a little traumatized about it. “Afraid of the boogie man, Malfoy?”

“Yes, and vampires and werewolves and all the other fucking shit that goes bump in the night. I always sleep with a nightlight on in my room, and I have to pay the stupid fucks that live in my dorm room not to say anything about it. Last night was the first night I was able to sleep without the light on in I don’t know how long. And the only reason I did it was because of you. I felt safe because I knew you would protect me.”

“You thought I would fight off vampires and werewolves for you? I really don’t like you that much, Malfoy.”

“The feeling is mutual, Granger.”

“Well, we’ll just see about that won’t we?”

Malfoy glared and then hiccuped. Hermione gladly did the honors and popped the bubble.

“I like you.”

Hermione had just read this in his journal, but it was quite another thing to actually hear him say it. She was completely stunned. Malfoy liked her? Malfoy?

“Fuck. I’ve had a crush on you since third year when you hit me. It was the first time you ever touched me, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you even though you were a fucking Mudblood. You were a boring, annoying, bushy-headed know-it-all Mudblood, who wasn’t even all that attractive, and yet I still wanted you. I would watch you at meal times and during class. I even went to the fucking library just so I could be near you. I was a fucking stalker. I even said mean things to you just so I could hear your voice. It gave me a hard on just to hear your angry retorts. Your passion overwhelmed me. And when I saw you come out of the fireplace, I couldn’t believe my fucking luck. Every time I look at you, all I can think about is what it would be like to shag you. And then you go and shag fucking Goyle.”

Hermione stared at him, completely stunned by this incredible admission. Leave it to Malfoy to tell her he likes her and be a complete prick about it. He was a total fuck up. “I really don’t know what to say to that, Malfoy. No, wait a minute. Yes, I do. I think you’re a fucking ass. You decided you like me because I fucking hit you? What do I have to do to make you fall in love with me? Because believe me, I’m totally willing to kick the fucking shit out of you. How dare you say you like me despite all of the horrible things you think about me. I think horrible things about you too. I think you’re a stupid, cowardly, annoying prick of a Slytherin pureblood asshole with an absolute horrid personality. And I hate your hair. You use way too much product. And you can forget about ever shagging me because there is absolutely nothing you could ever say that would get me to do that with you.”

Hiccup. Malfoy glared at her and then popped it himself. “I’m a virgin.”


	24. Bubble Burst

“Holy fuck! Oops, I mean holy abstinence, Malfoy,” Hermione joked. 

Malfoy glared at her but continued on. Verbal diarrhea and all that shit. “I never made love to Pansy even though she wanted me to. She practically begged me to, but I couldn’t go through with it. I knew she didn’t love me. She was only after my money. They were all like that. All the girls I have ever dated. They were all the same. It was always about the money and the power. They never loved me. Hell, I don’t think they even liked me very much. I’ve never found the right girl. The girl who will love me for me.”

Hermione stared at Malfoy as though she had never met him before. “Shit, Malfoy. That’s not funny at all.”

“No, it’s not,” he said quietly, unable to look her in the eye.

“You really do have a heart,” said Hermione, more to herself than to Malfoy. Deep, deep, deep down.

“I guess I do. Hermione, can I ask you something?”

“Yes,” said Hermione, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart felt like it was about to leap out of her chest. Did he just call her, Hermione?

“I know we haven’t been getting on that well, and it’s all my fault, really it is. I’ve been a complete ass. But as you’ve probably guessed by now, I really do like you. More than I ever thought I could. I know I didn’t really say it how I should have. I’m not good with expressing my feelings, and I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just how I have been brought up, and this is really hard for me. You have no idea how hard it is for me to say all of this to you. I didn’t really mean those things the way they came out before. You are the smartest, bravest, most caring person I have ever met, and I think you are beautiful. I know that you are too good for me. And I know I shouldn’t ask this of you, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering, what if. I don’t want to be a coward any longer. Would you consider, maybe…”

“What?” asked Hermione a little breathlessly. She was suddenly very aware that she was still sitting on top of him.

“No, never mind. It’s a bad idea.”

“Tell me,” she insisted. For some strange reason, she needed to know even though she was fairly certain she didn’t want to know.

“You really don’t want to know,” replied Malfoy, as if reading her mind. She thought she could see his eyes glistening slightly.

“Try me,” said Hermione softly. She was very touched by Malfoy’s vulnerability. She had never seen this side of him before. She didn’t even know it existed. He was usually such a shit.

Malfoy sighed. “It’s just that you’re not like those other girls. I know you don’t care about my money or my connections. With this war going on, life is just so uncertain now. I don’t want to die never knowing what it felt like. I trust you not to hurt me, and I was just wondering if you would consider… Oh, forget it. There is no way to ask something like this without looking like a complete ass. And it’s not like you would ever say yes, anyway.”

“Malfoy, I don’t know what to say,” said Hermione, completely shocked. Was he trying to say what she thought he was trying to say?

“Don’t worry about it. It was a stupid idea. You probably hate me, and I really don’t blame you.”

“I don’t hate you,” protested Hermione.

“Well, you don’t like me very much, either.”

“No, I don’t like you… most of the time,” added Hermione quietly, not able to look at him when she said that last part.

“You like me some of the time though?” asked Malfoy hopefully, lifting up her chin and forcing her to look into his incredible silver eyes. God, they were beautiful.

“I like you now, Malfoy,” said Hermione in nothing more than a whisper.

“Call me, Draco,” he said, taking hold of her and flipping her over onto her back in one swift move, so that he was now on top of her. 

Hermione gasped in shock. That was some move for a virgin. He leaned in close to her with his hands on either side of her head. She had to remind herself to breathe. His closeness was unsettling. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asked.

Hermione nodded. She was utterly speechless. Was this really happening? And with Draco Malfoy?

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” said Draco, right before he gently pressed his lips to hers and gave her the sweetest, most tender kiss she had ever received in her life.

It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her and, of all people, it had come out of Draco Malfoy’s mouth. He started sprinkling kisses down her neck. It felt so good. And for some reason, so right. She could hardly think clearly. A little moan escaped from her lips. He sighed into her neck and then he whispered in her ear, “I want you, Hermione.” Oh God. Her arms had somehow found themselves around Malfoy’s neck, and she had her fingers in his hair. His lips were blazing a trail of kisses all over her neck and throat. He slowly made his way back to her mouth. They were about to kiss. Their first real kiss. 

But then, just as his lips touched her own, he paused, as if unsure if he should go on. Without even really knowing what she was doing, Hermione encouraged him to continue by pressing her body into his and pulling her arms tighter around his neck. But instead of deepening the kiss like she very much wanted him to, he instead buried his face into her neck, and she felt his body begin to tremble with emotion. His reaction touched her heart, and she gently lifted his face up to meet hers, so that she could see him. Really see him. She did not like what she saw. Not at all. It soon became quite clear exactly which emotion Malfoy was feeling, as he was very much wearing his smirk on his sleeve. And a big fucking smirk at that. And if that wasn't bad enough, he started laughing. His ass off. At her. 

“Oh my God.” Malfoy laughed. “You were totally going to fuck me.”

“I was not!” protested Hermione, completely horrified at the thought. Was she?

“Yes, you were. You’re just lucky I have some morals, unlike Goyle.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? asked Hermione angrily. “You think you have morals?” 

“Well, I didn’t fuck you, did I?”

“No, you didn’t. You were too busy laughing your ass off.” 

“So, you admit that you were going to fuck me?”

“No!” Definitely not admitting that!

“Why don’t we ask your little portrait friend over there what he thinks?”

“Yeah, you were totally going to fuck him,” agreed Regulus, quite disagreeably. Fucking talking portraits. 

“Stay out of this, Regulus. I’m trying to think, and it’s difficult enough with one idiot in the room, let alone two.” 

“You really aren’t as smart as you think you are. You are so naive. You think I would leave something like Truth Bubbles out in the open where you could get your conniving little hands on them? Regardless of what you think, I am not an idiot.”

“You could have fooled me, Malfoy.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Granger, but I did fool you.”

“But you are afraid of the dark. I know you are.” Hermione was having trouble sorting all of this out. What the fuck had just happened? How did everything go so very wrong?

“I figured Crabbe and Goyle blabbed about that, the fucking dumb asses, so I threw that in to make it more believable. But I am not afraid of the dark; I just don’t like the dark is all. And I certainly don’t need you to protect me. That’s a laugh. I don’t think kissing works on vampires and werewolves.” Regulus laughed at that.

Hermione glared. “So, you’re not a virgin then?” she asked, trying really hard to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She rather liked the idea of the virgin Slytherin Prince.

“Hell no!”

“Why didn’t the Truth Bubbles work?”

“It was a placebo that came with the kit. It may be a fun icebreaker for guests at a party, but you don’t really expect the host to spill all of his secrets, do you? I switched the bottles. I figured you would try something like this. You are so predictable.”

Hermione scowled at him. “How’s this for predictable?” she asked, pushing him off of her and throwing him right off the bed and onto the floor.

“Well, it certainly is familiar,” said Malfoy, rubbing his ass.

“So, all of that crap you just told me was nothing but a bunch of lies?”

“Pretty much. I totally banged Pansy and all of the other girls I’ve ever dated. Plus, a couple I didn’t even know the names of. Oh, and while I really don’t like you, the part where I called you a boring, annoying bushy-headed, know-it-all really was the truth,” said Malfoy, smirking.

Hermione stood up on the bed and pointed her wand down at Malfoy, her arm slightly shaking out of anger. “Take off your pants, Malfoy.”

“You don’t give up,” said Malfoy patronizingly. “I already told you I don’t really like you. Now, you just seem desperate.”

“I said take off your fucking pants,” seethed Hermione.

“Oh, let me guess. You read my journal,” sneered Malfoy.

“Yes,” said Hermione through clenched teeth.

“And you believed it, as well. Gullible much? Like I’d really keep a fucking journal.”

“Just show me your fucking ass, Malfoy.”

“Say pretty please.”

“Fuck you.”

“So, you really want to check out my ass that bad, huh? It is a rather nice one.” Malfoy smirked.

“Malfoy, I’m getting really sick of your games. It’s probably just a plain old stupid ass like the rest of you, but I need to be sure, so drop your pants and show me your damn ass before I Avada you with my real wand.”

“Don’t act like you won’t enjoy it, Granger.”

“I won’t.”

“Your Mum would.”

“I am not anything like my Mum, except when I drink apparently,” muttered Hermione under her breath.

“What?”

“Never mind. Just show me your ass, so I can throw up and get it over with.”

“Why don’t you come over here, and do it yourself?” taunted Malfoy.

“You asked for it, Malfoy. Evanesco,” said Hermione pointing her wand at him and vanishing his boxer shorts. And then before he could move, she shot him with another spell. “Levicorpus,” said Hermione with a slight smirk. She jumped off of the bed and casually walked over to Malfoy, who was now hanging upside down by his ankle with a scowl on his face. She slowly looked him up and down as she walked around to the back of him and checked out his pale, white, completely unblemished ass. Shit. She glared over at Regulus.

“You know, now that I think about it,” said Regulus. “He was smiling kind of evilly when he was writing in that journal of his. I guess that information may have been helpful.” Regulus then had the gall to smirk about it.

“Finite,” said Hermione, dropping Malfoy to the ground with a thud. She had put up with enough of their shit. She was going back to her room to think up new ways to kill Malfoy. There were only three Unforgivables, but she was clever. Surely, she could come up with a few more. As for Regulus, it was a damn shame he was already dead because she very much wanted to do the job herself. Maybe she would draw a mustache on him and maybe a pair of Harry Potter glasses. That would teach him. God, she was going crazy. “I’m going to my room now. I’ll leave you two scheming Slytherin assholes to sort out the rest of your evil plans. Hermione walked to the door with as much dignity as she could muster, unfortunately forgetting about the hole from the Whiz-Bang.

“Nice ass,” said both Malfoy and Regulus at the same time. Then they both gave each other the exact same glare. 

Hermione would have laughed if she weren’t so mad. She was mad at Malfoy for tricking her, mad at herself for being tricked and mad at Regulus for choosing the wrong side. And the more she thought about it, the madder she got. She really hated Slytherins, even the dead ones. Especially the dead ones. She was tired of letting herself be humiliated by them. She was so mad that she wanted to throw something. So, she did. She took off Malfoy’s boxer shorts and threw them right in Regulus’s face. “There, I wouldn’t want you to be the only Slytherin, who didn’t have a pair of my knickers as a souvenir.” 

Regulus and Malfoy looked at her in shock. Then Malfoy recovered enough to say, “Technically, those are mine, Granger.”

Hermione replied by slamming the door in his face.

Regulus looked over at Malfoy and shook his head. “She’s right, you know. You are an idiot.”

“You’re a fucking painting. What do you know?” replied Malfoy haughtily.

“I know that’s one fine piece of Mudblood ass you just let walk out of here. I would have fucked her if I were you.”

“Too bad you can’t,” sneered Malfoy.

“Can’t I?” Regulus smirked. And with that he popped out of Malfoy’s room and into Hermione’s room just in time to see her blast the shit out of the whirlwind and start furiously cleaning up her room with her wand. It was the most fucking hot cleaning spree Regulus had ever seen. Regulus whistled in appreciation.

“Get out of my room, Regulus. I’m not in the mood for your Slytherin shit. I think I’ve had enough for one day. Why don’t you go hang out with your good buddy, Malfoy?”

“But I don’t want to hang out with that prick, I’d rather hang out with you,” replied Regulus smoothly.

“So, you want to slum it with the Mudblood, now?” asked Hermione sarcastically.

“I don’t mind getting down and dirty every once in a while,” replied Regulus crudely.

“Well, forget it. I’m mad at you. You took his side, you Slytherin asshole.”

“Well, I may be a Slytherin asshole, but I didn’t take anybody’s side but my own. You should have been a little nicer to me when we were making our little deal. Maybe, I would have told you a little more. Although, then I would have missed that whole scene that just happened. Very entertaining. A little nauseating at first, but the end was good. You should have seen your face when you figured out it was all a big joke. That was priceless. But I especially enjoyed the part when you threw those boxer shorts in my face. Do you always undress yourself when you’re angry? Because I’m sure I could think of something to piss you off.”

“Shut up. That whole thing that just happened was not funny. It was completely humiliating. I really don’t know how I fell for that. I knew he couldn’t really like me. Stupid lying Truth Bubbles.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better. If it had been me in Malfoy’s place, I totally would have fucked you.”

“Surprisingly, that does not make me feel any better,” said Hermione sarcastically.

“Awww, do you need a hug?”

“Not from you, I don’t.”

“Come on. For a portrait of a dead, Slytherin, Death Eater bastard, I’m a pretty good hugger.”

“I highly doubt that,” said Hermione skeptically.

“Is that a challenge?”

“No, I’m pretty sure a two-dimensional hug from a dead, Slytherin, Death Eater bastard wouldn’t make me feel any better at all.”

“Well, you never know until you give it a try,” said Regulus, holding out his arms.

Hermione reluctantly smiled. Regulus was rather cute in a fucked up kind of way. She really did need a friend at the moment, and it seemed that a portrait of a dead, Slytherin, Death Eater bastard was the best she was going to get. And he was making her feel a little better. “How am I supposed to hug you, when you are way up there?” asked Hermione, pointing up at the wall.

“Oh, I think the smartest witch of her age could think of something,” challenged Regulus.

Hermione knew she was walking right into it, but she took his challenge. She pushed her trunk up to the wall and stood up on it right in front of Regulus. “Now, what?” She smiled.

Regulus winked at her. “Lean in, and I’ll show you.” Hermione hesitated and Regulus said, “Come on, live a little.” 

“That’s rich coming from you,” said Hermione, but she pressed herself up against the portrait just the same. She was just about to feel really stupid when Regulus suddenly grabbed her ass with both of his hands and pulled her in for a kiss. A real kiss. A really, really good kiss. Just then, Malfoy opened the door to her room and got the shock of his life.

Discovering Hermione plastered against the wall in a very compromising position with a portrait was not exactly what he had expected to walk in on. It was a very disturbing picture, indeed. And the only thing Malfoy could think to say was, “Holy fuck!”

Regulus, the quick thinking Slytherin bastard that he was, smirked and said, “Damn straight. There sure the hell is any fucking abstinence being practiced around here; that’s for sure.”


	25. Parchment Problems

Hermione apprehensively peeked over her shoulder and looked down behind her to see her shirt (Malfoy’s shirt) bunched up around her waist and Regulus’s hands still squeezing her ass. Great. She looked from Malfoy’s shocked face to Regulus’s smirking one and sighed. What else could she do? This was so not going to be a good day. “What do you want, Malfoy?” she asked rather coldly. “Ever hear of knocking?” She was still mad at him, and she refused to be humiliated twice in one morning. She would not let this bother her. What did she care what Malfoy thought, anyway? Let him think she was shagging a portrait of a dead Death Eater. Oh God, that was disturbing on so many levels. 

Malfoy’s mouth literally dropped open at her indifferent response, but then he immediately closed it to form a scowl on his face. “What the fuck are you doing in here, Granger?”

Hermione returned his scowl. Regulus’s hands were still on her ass. “It is none of your damn business what I do in the privacy of my own room, Malfoy,” she spat.

Malfoy’s eyes widened but then just as suddenly narrowed with skepticism. “You have to be fucking with me.”

“Um, no. You weren’t interested, remember?” pointed out Hermione sarcastically.

“Yeah, you fucking prude.” Regulus laughed, letting one of his hands start to roam. Hermione’s eyes widened slightly, but she made no move to stop him. Whether this was because of stubbornness, shock or something else entirely, she wasn’t sure.

Malfoy’s eyes followed Regulus’s hand for a minute before he finally forced himself to look away. He composed himself, glared at Hermione angrily and then stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Hermione took one look at the closed door and burst out laughing. Malfoy was jealous. Of a picture. And it served him fucking right, too. Hermione turned to face Regulus. “That was pretty much worth it just to see the look on Malfoy’s face, but touch me there again, and I will fucking kill you, dead or not,” she said as she physically removed his hands from her body and stepped off the trunk.

“Now, who’s the prude?” asked Regulus mockingly.

“You are not going to get to me today. You know why, Regulus?”

“No, why Hermione?” asked Regulus, mimicking her tone.

“Because you are not real. You are a picture. Therefore, nothing really happened. You touching me. It wasn’t real.”

“Maybe not, but did it feel real?” Regulus smirked evilly. 

Hermione blushed. She suddenly felt very dirty and was eager to escape to the one place she knew she could avoid both Regulus and Malfoy. She quickly gathered up some clothes and all but fled from her room.

Regulus called after her. “Let me know the next time you want to experience something unreal. If we’re going to pretend nothing happened, we might as well have sex.”

She let the door slam behind her to let Regulus know just how she felt about that idea. And with that, she made her escape to the bathroom and hurriedly locked the door. Her eyes carefully scanned the walls around her, and she was relieved to see there were not any portraits at all hanging there. A long hot shower was exactly what she needed to clear her mind, and she didn’t want any unwelcome interruptions, a.k.a. Regulus Black. Hermione pulled off Malfoy’s shirt and threw it on the floor in disgust. If the whole thing hadn’t been so humiliating, she would have been glad that Malfoy’s favorite shirt had a big hole in it. He could hold his breath if he expected a Reparo from her. Asshole. Hermione turned on the shower and waited impatiently for the water to heat up. How dare he pull that trick on her? She hated that stupid smug look he had on his face. And that fucking smirk. If it was the last thing she did, she was going to find a spell for removing smirks or maybe even create one herself. 

Stepping into the shower, Hermione tried really hard to relax under the stream of hot water. However, she couldn’t stop thinking about Malfoy. He had really thought she was going to shag him. Well, she wasn’t. Alright, maybe she would have snogged the shit out of him. It had been pretty damn romantic after all. And admittedly, the whole virgin thing was working for him. It was kind of a turn on, if she was honest about it. She still couldn't help feeling a slight sadness at his sudden loss of virginity. But despite all that, she still was not going to shag him. She was not that kind of girl. She had made her boyfriend wait two and a half years for Merlin’s sake. 

And the whole Goyle thing really wasn’t her fault at all. It was a freak accident. Emphasis on the freak part. Alcohol was definitely evil. Her parents should have warned her about the alcohol/shagging gene she had inherited from her mother. It was really a serious medical condition. Anything that had the side effect of shagging Goyle was serious. Because Goyle? Seriously? She would have never ever shagged him if she hadn’t been drinking that night. Of course, now that she had shagged him, she had to admit that she wasn’t all that repulsed by it. Goyle had some very redeeming qualities. Oh yeah, he did. And after that dream she had about him… Well, she obviously wasn’t opposed to doing him again. 

Oh God. She had to stop thinking about sex. It was not a good idea while she was stuck in a house with Malfoy and Regulus. Because she did not want to go there. No, she did not. Goyle was one thing, but Malfoy and Regulus were quite another. She didn’t need that shit. Hermione finished washing her hair and started lathering up her body. She was just about to rinse off when she heard a furious tapping sound. Now what? Couldn’t she even have one moment of peace? Warily, she peeked her head out of the shower and saw one of the Order’s owls tapping its beak frantically on the window. Oh shit.

Hermione flung herself, soapy body and all, out of the shower and ran to the window to let in the, now, screeching owl. What if something had happened to Harry? Or Ron? She was so scared; she didn’t even think about the fact that she was completely naked and that bubbles were dripping all down her wet body and all over the floor. All she cared about was reading the message tied to that owl’s leg. She threw open the window and the owl quickly stuck out its right leg. With trembling fingers, Hermione extracted the message and began to read. Her eyes soon narrowed. The note was from Fred and George.

_Dearest Hermione:_

_Don’t worry. Nobody’s dead or anything. We know how you think. All morbid and shit. Of course, Bill might as well be dead. He is getting married. Tomorrow, in fact. That’s why we’re writing. We told Mum we would. Ron wanted to do it. He said you were HIS friend and all, but we told him we were your lovers and that trumps an un-shagged friend any day. He’s sulking in his room now, the git. So anyway, Bill and Fleur are having a surprise wedding tomorrow. It was Moody’s idea. Don’t want You No Poo and his Shit Eaters crashing the wedding after all._

_Remus lent us one of the Order’s owls to tell you. He said to also tell you that it’s alright for you to come to the wedding, even with your ‘little problem’. He trusts that you will figure something out. We, of course, tried to get out of him what your little problem was, but he refused to say and then he actually blushed. We didn’t know werewolves were even capable of blushing. So, we asked him if it was such a big secret, why didn’t he tell you himself? He said that he didn’t want to impose on you. We told him we were sure you wouldn’t find it an imposition at all. Then he said that he trusted us and since we were already writing to you, he didn’t think it would be such a big deal if we just passed the message on for him. So, we said if he trusted us so much, why didn’t he just tell us the big secret in the first place? And do you know what he told us? He told us to sod off. Yeah, he did._

_So, we have given it a lot of thought, and we have come to the conclusion that your little problem is either Malfoy (as we had suspected earlier when you called on our expertise), and you have been being very naughty indeed, or you are on your period. Oddly enough, we are hoping for Malfoy, as that option includes naughtiness. And at least we could mess with him. Try out some of our new joke products at his expense. However, if you are (ugh) menstruating, there will, unfortunately, be no messing around at all, if you know what we mean, and probably a lot of bitchiness to boot._

_Anyway, we have our fingers crossed and will hope for the best (we are very much looking forward to getting to know naughty Hermione) but will think up some tampon jokes just in case. See you tomorrow morning at 10:00 a.m. at the Burrow. Be prepared to spend the night. Let us know, if you will be bringing a guest, so we can tell Mum and ditch having to come up with more menstrual jokes. They are tough to find. ‘Period.’ That was George. I will not take credit for that one. It was ‘bloody’ stupid. Get it? Never mind then. We’ve included a piece of parchment for your reply. It’s one of our new products. Just speak your answer and the message will write itself. By they way, the message is for our eyes only, so feel free to be as naughty as you like. Wink, wink._

_Doubley Troubley Yours,_

_Fred and George Weasley_

Hermione stared at the blank parchment not knowing what to say. “Fuck! What the hell am I going to do with Malfoy?” thought Hermione aloud. Then she watched in horror as her declaration wrote itself out on the parchment. Oh my God. What had she just done? “Shit!” An ellipsis formed on the page and then the word ‘shit’ spelled itself out mockingly and was soon followed by an exclamation point. Hermione took out her wand and tried every spell she could think of and all she had to show for it was some lousy written documentation of each and every single fucking spell she had used. Out of sheer desperation, she scooped off some soap bubbles still clinging to her chest and began scrubbing furiously at the parchment. Nothing happened. 

Hermione screamed in frustration. ‘Ahhhhhhhh!’ appeared on the parchment. The owl didn’t seem to like her screaming and snatched the parchment from her fingers. It was about to fly out the window when Hermione grabbed onto its leg with her free hand. “Give me that fucking parchment, you stupid bird.” Hermione could see the parchment still writing down her every word. The owl flapped its wings furiously and was screeching at the top of its lungs. Hermione’s fingers were still slippery from her shower, and she could feel herself losing her grip. The owl was about to escape out the window when someone started pounding on the door.

“What the fuck are you doing in there, Granger?”

Hermione would have very much like to tell him to ‘fuck off’ but now was not the time. She needed his help. She made a snap judgment. Once again she was going to humiliate herself for the Order. “Alohomara.”

The door banged open and Malfoy fell inside, sliding across the sudsy slippery floor. Intending to send her his worst scowl, he looked over at Hermione, only to have his mouth fall open. He really couldn’t decide which was more shocking. Hermione snogging a portrait or Hermione stark naked, wet and covered in suds. Oh, and if that weren’t enough, she was holding onto a very angry owl.

“Would you stop gawking at me and close the fucking door and window. Can’t you see that I am trying to keep this owl from escaping?”

Malfoy looked at her angrily. Who was she to boss him around? However, he did decide to close the door, at least. They certainly didn’t need an angry owl flying about the house. “Oh, sorry. I guess I’m a little distracted by the fact that you are fucking naked.” 

“Malfoy, would you shut up,” hissed Hermione. “Now, they know I’m naked!”

“Who’s they?” asked Malfoy nervously, looking around the small room.

Hermione was about to lose her grip in more ways than one. Malfoy was no fucking help whatsoever. She dropped her wand, heaved the owl toward Malfoy and pulled down the window as quickly as she could. Malfoy shrieked like a girl, as the owl came catapulting toward him. The angry owl went flying about the room haphazardly and eventually landed on the shower curtain rod in a huff. It hooted some obscenities at them and stared down angrily at the two of them with ruffled feathers.

Hermione grabbed her wand and then her towel. As she wrapped the towel around herself, she glared at Malfoy. “A lot of fucking help you were.”

Malfoy glared back. “Why didn’t you just use your fucking wand, smart ass?”

“Because, dumb shit. That is an Order owl. They have protection charms on them to keep their letters from being intercepted from Death Eater scum like you.”

“I meant, why didn’t you use your wand to close the fucking window, you bitch!”

“Oh.” Duh.

“And I am not a Death Eater!” yelled Malfoy. “You’ve seen me naked. I don’t have the fucking Mark. Not even on my ass. And I know that you made sure to get a good look at it.”

“Shut up! Now, they know I’ve seen you naked too,” said Hermione exasperatedly.

“Who the fuck are you talking about?” asked Malfoy angrily.

“Fred and George. It’s another one of their stupid products. That parchment that owl is holding is recording everything we say.”

“The Weasley twits? What do I care if they know we’ve seen each other naked?”

“You don’t care? Well, what if I told them how you wore your hair in pig tails with little pink ribbons?”

“Then I’ll tell them how you like to dress up in my clothes, including my boxer shorts. Now, they’re going to think we’re a bit kinky, don’t you think?” asked Malfoy mischievously.

Hermione smirked. “Not when I tell them that you are still a virgin, they won’t.”

“You fucking bitch. You know that’s not true.”

“Do I? I gave you Truth Bubbles, didn’t I?”

“It was the placebo!”

“Likely story, Malfoy. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You should be proud of your virginity,” said Hermione mockingly.

“Oh, are you feeling reminiscent? Wishing you were still a virgin?” asked Malfoy snidely.

“Shut up!”

“Oh, don’t they know that their little Gryffindor princess isn’t quite the prude she pretends to be? Haven’t let any Gryffindors down your pants then? Just us Slytherins?”

“That’s it, Malfoy. You’re dead. Maybe Regulus will let you share his picture frame,” said Hermione, pointing her wand at him.

“Why so we could have a threesome? You wish!”

Hermione replied with an arsenal of curses and hexes. Malfoy was an artful little dodger. Probably, his ferret instincts kicking in. However, she got him with a good stinging hex before he grabbed a metal trashcan to try to hide behind. Hermione pointed her wand at it and said, “Reducto!” Unfortunately, Malfoy moved and Hermione ended up shattering the window instead. The owl seemed to smirk at them right before it took off through the window. They both watched as a small piece of parchment fluttered to the floor. 

Malfoy stooped to pick it up. He silently read it and then burst out laughing. Hermione angrily grabbed it out of his hand and read it with a scowl on her face.

_P.S._

_Remus thought we should tell you that this parchment not only records messages but pictures, as well. So, smile!_

_We’re thinking of calling it Peeping Parchment. What do you think?_


	26. Date Denial

Hermione crumpled up the piece of parchment in her hand. Damn Weasley twins. She was so mad she wanted to hex something or better yet someone. Lucky for her, Malfoy was around. And he was pretty much asking for it just by existing and all. At least he was good for something. She turned on him and before he could move, she hit him with a Petrifcus Totalus. Unfortunately, he was frozen in place with the smirk still on his face. She should have at least let him get a good look at her wand stuck in his face before she hexed him. A scowl or, even better, a look of complete and utter terror would have been preferable. Well, there were other ways to deal with this little problem. 

With a smirk of her own, she stood right in front of him and took off her towel. However, before he could see much of anything, she threw it right in his face. Her pink fluffy towel was now covering up his stupid smirk as well as his stupid pink hair, and it was a vast improvement to say the very least. Besides, he made a damn fine towel rack. Hermione restrained herself from using any more spells on Malfoy and went to leisurely finish up her shower. She supposed she could have just told him to get out, but hexing him was so much easier, not to mention more fun. Plus, he deserved it after the stunt he had pulled that morning making her think he was actually in love with her. As if she would even want that. Fucking bastard. 

Hermione got into the shower and rinsed off what was left of the bubbles clinging to her body. For a long time, she just stood there under the hot water with her eyes closed as though the steaming water could miraculously wash away all of her troubles. Of course, all she was really doing was using up all of the hot water, but that was okay too. Malfoy could probably use a cold shower. For the sake of the Order, she had once again humiliated herself. She had let Malfoy see her completely naked, and it was all for nothing. Despite all of her heroic efforts, Fred and George still knew all about her ‘secret’ assignment for the Order. Plus, now because of what was written on that stupid parchment of theirs, they would probably completely misconstrue its meaning and think that she was shagging Malfoy as well, which made her seem very unprofessional, not to mention kind of slutty, too. And, as if that weren’t enough, they were now in the possession of some very incriminating pictures of her. Incriminating as in naked. Stupid Peeping Parchment. They were probably getting a good laugh off of those pictures right about now or perhaps just getting off. Either way, she was not happy about the situation

She didn’t even want to know what kind of evil plan they would come up with for blackmailing her. Probably something humiliating no doubt. And she wasn’t sure if she could handle one more humiliating thing. She had easily surpassed her quota of embarrassing moments for a lifetime and in only a matter of days. She would just have to steal the pictures away from them. Tomorrow before the wedding, she would simply hex the shit out of them and then ransack their room. That thought almost made her feel happy. It was funny how a little thing like breaking and entering didn’t bother her in the slightest anymore. Assault and battery didn’t seem like such a bad idea either. Hanging around Slytherins had certainly changed her. And probably not for the better. She was no longer the good little Gryffindor anymore. She hated to think where the Sorting Hat would put her now if she tried it on. Maybe Slytherinism (was that even a word?) was contagious. Well, if the twins wanted naughty Hermione, that is exactly what they were going to get. And they would soon be very sorry to find out that a naughty Hermione wasn’t necessarily a fun Hermione.

Now, what the hell was she going to do with Malfoy? She would have to take him to the wedding of course. All of the members of the Order would be there, so she couldn’t push him off on someone else, much as she would like to. And he obviously couldn’t go as himself. Ron and Harry would probably kill him and while the thought of that didn’t really bother her very much, the thought of an angry bride blaming her for ruining her wedding day certainly did. Fleur could be kind of scary that way. Besides, everyone would know about Malfoy then and her Order assignment would be completely compromised. At least with the twins, she knew they wouldn’t be giving her secret away. Oh no, she would be paying a very high price for it indeed. Fucking evil twins.

Well, she could transfigure Malfoy. Human transfiguration was extremely difficult though, not to mention very dangerous. However, the thought of transfiguring Malfoy into a gold ring that she could wear on her middle finger, sort of a symbolic or perhaps quite literal “up yours”, was kind of tempting. Or, maybe she could shrink him and carry him around in her pocket. That idea made her laugh, but it wasn’t very practical. Her horrid bridesmaid dress she had to wear probably wouldn’t have a pocket in it and sticking him in her cleavage was quite out of the question. And if she left a miniature Malfoy to his own devices, he would probably either run off or get himself squished. And she couldn’t have him running off now could she? Perhaps, she could glamour him to look like a girl. He could even keep his stupid pink hair. Then she could take a picture of him and send it as a sort of peace offering to Goyle. Maybe not. Best not to think about Goyle for the moment. Anyway, who on earth could she say the girl was if she did take a girl to the wedding? Certainly not one of her Muggle relatives, that’s for sure. And why would she be bringing some strange girl to a wedding anyway? So her mum could be in a parade?

There was really only one logical thing to do. However, it was so unpleasant that she didn’t even want to think it. In fact, it was so completely horrible; it made her want to throw up. Malfoy was going to have to come to the wedding as her… date. She was going to have to ask him out on a fucking date after what he did to her. After he rejected her. She was going to have to spend the whole day and night at a romantic wedding surrounded by love with someone who fucking hated her. And what was even worse, was that she had already had a date. A perfectly good date that she was now going to have to break so that she could go with a fucking ferret. She deserved an Order of Merlin for putting up with this shit.

Hermione turned off the shower. She got out and made sure she was behind Malfoy where he couldn’t see her before she reclaimed her towel. After she dried off, she got ready and then reluctantly lifted the spell off of him. It was a tempting thought not to take off the spell at all. He was so much more pleasant as a towel rack. Hermione decided to ignore him. She was determined not to talk to him yet because she so didn’t want to deal with the whole date thing now. It was extremely depressing and besides she needed time to come up with a plan. Therefore she didn’t even bother to glance his way as she was leaving. She was just about to open the door when she suddenly found herself shoved up against it with Malfoy’s body pressed hard against her back. God he was dramatic. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Think you could get away with that, did you?” whispered Malfoy in her ear, giving her goose bumps. Why did he always have that effect on her? He was a prat. She shouldn’t feel anything other than annoyance.

“Yes, I rather did think that,” said Hermione defiantly. She tried to struggle, but she could barely move. He was stronger than her, and he had a tight hold on her wrists, so she couldn’t use her wand against him. And since it was her back that was against him, she couldn’t knee him in the groin either. Pity. 

“And what do you think now?” asked Malfoy with a hint of superiority in his voice.

“That next time I should just leave you as a fucking towel rack,” said Hermione sarcastically.

“Ha, ha. I really don’t think you’re in much of a position to be joking right now.”

“Who said I was joking? And why exactly are we in this position anyway, Malfoy? I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I don’t,” said Malfoy rather too quickly and somewhat angrily.

Interesting. He was awfully defensive about not liking her. Even just the suggestion that he could possibly like her seemed to really piss him off. “Well, it sure ‘feels’ like you like me,” said Hermione, just to fuck with him.

“Well, I don’t,” said Malfoy, starting to get annoyed.

This was fun. “At least a little bit of you seems to like me. A very little bit,” insinuated Hermione, knocking his manhood. Best to hit below the belt in these types of situations.

Malfoy glared at the back of her stupid bushy head. How she could have such bushy hair when her hair was still wet from her shower, he had no idea. He longed to put some of his hair gel in that bird’s nest she called her hair or, better yet, use some of that Catastrophic Cowlick Cream. She had looked rather cute, or at least less annoying than usual, with the bunny ears. He almost groaned out loud just reminiscing about the bunny ears and her little cottontail. Not helping his case. He did not like her. She was a know-it-all. She was a total bitch. She had psycho Muggle parents. And she was a Gryffindor. In his mind, being a Gryffindor was way worse than being a Mudblood. He didn’t care what his father said. And besides all of that, she had just called him ‘little’ which he most definitely was not. “I am not little, and you know it. You stared at it long enough when I was taking my shower last night to know that much.”

“Did I?” asked Hermione innocently, well mockingly so anyway. “I don’t remember. It really didn’t leave much of an impression on me to be honest.”

“Would you like me to leave you with a stronger impression?” asked Malfoy suggestively.

“Isn’t that what you are trying to do right now? Unsuccessfully, I might add. Isn’t that why we’re in this position in the first place?”

“You fucking hexed me. We are in this position because you hexed me, and because I don’t like you.”

“Just keep telling yourself that, Malfoy.” Hermione smirked.

“Granger, I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about. Why in the world would you think that I like you?”

“A girl can tell these things. You know, when it’s shoved in her back.”

“That has nothing to do with liking you. That just happens sometimes. It’s a guy thing.”

“Would it happen if you had Ron shoved up against the wall like this?”

“No! And I would not have him shoved up against the wall like this. I would just punch him in the bloody nose.”

“See what I mean. You do like me, but don’t worry about it too much, nothing will come of it because I do not like you.”

“What do you mean? You do too like me. You were totally going to fuck me just this morning.”

“I was not,” exclaimed Hermione angrily. “I was going to give you a pity snog, maybe, but I certainly wasn’t going to fuck you. You were pathetic really.”

“Whatever, Granger. You are just trying to turn this around because you are embarrassed about me tricking you into thinking I was in love with you. As if that would ever happen. You should get over it already. You have worse problems. The fucking Weasley twins have naked pictures of you, for Merlin’s sake.” 

“Yes, I am aware of that,” seethed Hermione. She did not need to be reminded of that horrid fact. However, she couldn’t really concern herself about that now. She still had to find a way to force Malfoy to be her date for the wedding and then she had to come up with some stupid story about why her real boyfriend wasn’t there. Then if that weren’t enough, she would have to make up some back-story about her new ‘boyfriend’ and how they met blah, blah, blah. The whole thing was way too complicated. It was really too bad there wasn’t some magical way she could just turn Malfoy into her boyfriend. 

Oh! She could turn Malfoy magically into her boyfriend. She was a witch, wasn’t she? And luckily, she had some Polyjuice all ready to go. She had thought it would be a good idea to have some on hand, just in case. And this was totally a just in case! Oh God, she was brilliant. A little belatedly, perhaps, but still brilliant. Now, she just had to get Malfoy to agree to be her date. Of course, the only way he would ever agree to go out on a date with her was if it was to save his own ass. Well, fortunately that could be arranged. And maybe she could even get something out of it at the same time. A diabolical plan was beginning to form in her head. After all, she deserved something for having to go on a date with the stupid ferret. Was Malfoy still talking?

“So, why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone and deal with the rest of the shit you have going on in your fucked up Mudblood life,” finished Malfoy angrily.

“I’m not the one grinding into you, Malfoy. Why don’t you get off of me? I’m getting a little tired of you poking me in the back as a result of just how much you don’t like me,” sneered Hermione.

“That’s it!” Malfoy whipped Hermione around by the shoulders so that they were now facing each other. He wasn’t expecting what he saw. “What the fuck are you smiling about? You have nothing to smile about. Your life is shit.”

Yes, it was rather. “Yeah, because of you,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes. “I’m smiling because I think it’s funny that you like me against your will. It’s so Mr. Darcy of you.”

“Who the fuck are you even talking about? How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t like you!”

“You are so full of shit, Malfoy. You know what I think? I think you would go out on a date with me if I even let you think it was a possibility.”

“I would not.”

“Oh, I think you would.”

“You want to bet, Granger.”

“Yes, Malfoy. I think I would like to bet on that.”

“You’re crazy,” said Malfoy.

“And you’re stupid,” returned Hermione.

“We’ll see about that. What are the stakes?” asked Malfoy.

“If I win, you have to follow one of my commands for 24 hours, and I won’t have to follow the command I already owe you.”

“No way. I’ll follow your stupid command ‘if’ you win, but you still have to follow mine that I already won fair and square.”

“Scared you’ll lose?” asked Hermione, raising her eyebrows.

“No, but I’m hedging my bets, just in case. Besides, I had to put up with a lot of shit to win that bet. I earned whatever I get out of it.”

“Alright, agreed,” said Hermione reluctantly. “What do want in the unlikely case that you should win this time, as well? You won’t, of course, but I am curious.”

“When I win this completely idiotic bet that I can’t even believe you have agreed to, you have to stop messing around with that stupid fucking portrait. It’s absolutely disgusting to watch.”

Hermione laughed. “Okay, deal. But to tell you the truth, that’s really not much of a sacrifice for me.”

“Whatever. Alright go ahead and ask me. But I don’t want you blubbering about it when I give you my resounding ‘hell no’. I’m sure you’re used to rejection by now.”

Hermione scowled. He had to be difficult. “You see. I have to go to a wedding…”

“No way in hell. I’m not going to some fucking wedding just so you can have a date and don’t have to look like the dateless loser that you are,” interrupted Malfoy. “It’s probably going to be a bunch of your crazy Muggle relatives. I had enough of that shit at that God-awful dinner party at your fucking parents’ house. I don’t need your Aunt Edna pinching my ass and putting things down my pants. Why don’t you just ask fucking Goyle, if you need a date so badly? He’s willing to put up with that stupid shit for a good fuck.”

“You know what, Malfoy. I would rather go to the wedding with Goyle. God help me, but I would. At least I wouldn’t have to baby-sit him the whole night. The only thing I would have to worry about is him trying to take off my knickers during dinner. But I’m not looking for a real date. This is strictly business.”

“Wait a minute. You would go on a real date with Goyle?”

“Yes. I mean, no! I don’t know. The point is that I have to take you. Ron’s brother is marrying Fleur, you know, from the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and I’m in the wedding, so I sort of have to go. If I didn’t show up, Fleur would kill me or more likely have me killed. Wouldn’t want her breaking a nail on her big day. Anyway, it’s tomorrow at the Burrow, and I can’t leave you alone, so, therefore, you are going to be my 'date'. And I do use that term loosely.” 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me. Do you honestly think I would ever willingly go to a Weasel wedding and as your fucking date, no less? You are even crazier than I thought you were.”

“Who said you had to be willing?”

“Well, I won’t be. You will have to Imperious me. And that’s an Unforgivable. I don’t expect a goody two shoes like you can do it. So, I’m not going. I’m spending the day away from you in glorious peace and quiet while you go to that stupid rundown shack of a weasel hole dateless and leave me the bloody hell alone!”

“You know that’s not possible, Malfoy. I can’t leave you at Headquarters alone. I have my assignment, and I’m going to stick to it no matter how unpleasant it is. And mind you, I do find it quite unpleasant. And it’s not like I have to Imperious you to go, anyway.”

“What do you mean,” scowled Malfoy.

“Well, you don’t really have a choice now, do you? You can’t stay here. You can’t leave here. If you do, you’re dead. Either Voldemort will kill you or some evil member of your family will. You need the Order’s protection. You need me,” said Hermione triumphantly. She watched Malfoy’s reaction closely and could tell that he was angry. Well, too fucking bad. It wasn’t as if she was going to enjoy being his date because she wasn’t. In fact, it made her want to vomit.

“I am not going to be your date,” seethed Malfoy.

“You are, and that’s final,” huffed Hermione.

“I don’t want to be your date!”

Hermione had had enough. She wasn’t putting up with anymore of his shit. She jabbed her finger hard into Malfoy’s chest. “I don’t care what you want. Don’t you get that? That’s not part of the deal. I never said you would want to go on a date with me, I just bloody hell said you would. And you will because you have to. I tricked you. Now, we’re even. So, stop whining about it. I am so sick of your incessant whining all of the time. Do you really think that I want you to be my date for the wedding? Are you that delusional? I had a date. I had a perfectly good date that I now have to break off for you. I hate you. I can’t stand the sight of you. I’d rather go with anyone but you. In fact, I’d rather go with Cormac McLaggen. And that’s saying something. With his aggressive slobbery kisses and his octopus hands roaming all over my body. The way he does that thing…” Hermione suddenly blushed scarlet. Had she really just said that to Malfoy, of all people?

Malfoy had the gall to give her a smirk. “You kissed McLaggen? That stupid ass, who played Quidditch like he was Confunded?” 

Hermione blushed even harder at that. “Yes, well that’s beside the point,” she said, trying to regain her composure. “The point is, you have to be my date. It’s the only way. It’s not like either of us will enjoy it. It’s just what we have to do.”

“Well, I certainly won’t enjoy it,” said Malfoy.

“Well, I won’t either,” snapped Hermione.

“I don’t see how this is going to work, anyway. It’s not like anyone is going to want me at the wedding. Weasel and Scarhead are going to have a right fit. Probably Avada me on the spot.”

“As much as that would pain me,” said Hermione sarcastically, “you don’t have to worry about that. I have a plan.”

“What kind of plan?”

“A brilliant plan,” replied Hermione a little smugly and as though she hadn’t just come up with it. “You’re not going as yourself. You’re going as Viktor Krum. I have a batch of Polyjuice Potion ready to go.”

“Wait a minute. Krum is your fucking boyfriend?”

“Yes. Is that so difficult to believe? I went to the Yule Ball with him, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I thought he would dump you when he found out what a prude you were.” Malfoy saw Hermione blushing and then laughed. “Oh, he never found out you were a prude, did he?”

“Oh shut up, Malfoy. That is none of your God damn business. All you need to know is that you are going as Viktor Krum. You have been my boyfriend for the past three years and you not only like me, you love me. So, get over it.” 

“Shit. He fucking loves you? That’s just great. I’m not kissing your ass the whole time we’re there. He probably just told you that to get into your pants, anyway. And if the two of you are so in love, why are you fucking around with Goyle and Regulus?”

“I’m not… Oh, never mind. We have an understanding. We don’t get to spend a lot of time together with him playing Quidditch and me going to school and well…”

“Saving the world,” finished Malfoy sarcastically.”

“Yes! Not that it’s any of your business.”

“So you’ve said. Yet you still insist on sharing.”

“I’m just trying to share the fucking plan with you, so you don’t fuck it up,” seethed Hermione.

“Well, I don’t see how this is going to work. You’ll still need some of Krum’s hair to complete the potion. How do you expect to do that? Perhaps, Ms. Smarty Pants isn’t familiar with that part of the potion.”

“Of course, I’m familiar with that part of the potion. You’re not the only one who’s made Polyjuice Potion before. I made it second year, in fact.” Malfoy raised his eyebrows at that piece of information. “It just so happens I already have a lock of Viktor’s hair.” She pulled out a gold locket from her shirt and opened it up to show a lock of dark brown hair. “He gave it to me as a souvenir,” she said, unable to look Malfoy in the eye. Souvenir had been Viktor’s term for it, and she had trouble not rolling her eyes when she thought of it. World-renowned Quidditch players were so egotistical.

Malfoy smirked again. “Goyle, McLaggen and Krum? Well, don’t expect for me to put out on the first date.”

“Right, Malfoy. Because you wouldn’t ever touch a Mudblood, would you?” Hermione knowingly smirked. 

Malfoy scowled at her.

Hermione turned and opened the door. Malfoy did not try to stop her this time. On her way out she looked back and said over her shoulder, “Pack your bags. We’re spending the night tomorrow. Be ready to go by 10:00 a.m. and bring your dress robes with you. We’re Flooing to the Burrow and will change there. And you better be on your best behavior. If anyone suspects you’re not Viktor Krum, you can imagine what your welcome will be. It shouldn’t be too hard to pretend your Viktor. Just let yourself believe you’re actually good at Quidditch.”

“Fuck off, Granger.”

“Yes, thank you. I think I will hook up with Regulus now. Because I can!” And with that, Hermione slammed the bathroom door in Malfoy’s face.


	27. Four Fun

Malfoy was such an ass. She really shouldn’t let him get to her like that. It only encouraged him. This date was really going to suck. What had started off to be a perfectly good day had completely turned to shit. Hermione stomped into the kitchen and started banging pots and pans. She was starving. She hadn’t eaten anything since that little bit of cake she had licked off Malfoy and that really wasn’t as satisfying as she would have thought. It was already time for lunch, but Hermione was determined to make herself a huge breakfast. She got out eggs and kippers and started making a pot of tea. She was deliberately keeping herself very busy in an effort to ignore Regulus, which was turning out to be quite impossible. She knew he was watching her. She could see the amused expression on his face out of the corner of her eye. Annoying bastard. She would have thrown one of her kippers in his stupid face, if she weren’t so darn hungry.

“Good idea.”

“What?” snapped Hermione. Could he read minds now? Because throwing a kipper in his face was most definitely a good idea.

“A big breakfast.”

“And why do you think that is a good idea?” asked Hermione, knowing she shouldn’t even bother.

“It will help build up your stamina. And you’re going to need it,” said Regulus, smirking.

Hermione rolled her eyes. ”I suppose you overheard what I told Malfoy,” she said, not bothering to look at him.

“You mean what you shouted at him,” he corrected. “Yes, I suppose I did. Mum heard you, as well. She had a right little fit over it, but I calmed her down.”

“And how did you do that?” asked Hermione, frying the eggs.

“I told her I would never touch a dirty filthy Mudblood. Of course, I think we both know I would. And have.”

“Well, there is no need to upset your dear old mum anymore than we already have. I only said that to Malfoy to make him mad. I have no plans to do anything with you.”

“Who needs plans? I’m all for spontaneity.”

“Forget it. I have sworn off sleeping with Slytherins.”

“Good thing I don’t need to sleep.”

“I’m not having sex with you, Regulus.”

“Why not?”

“You’re dead.”

“And?”

“You’re a painting.”

“Is that all?”

“It’s fucking weird.”

“Fucking weird in a good way?”

“Maybe if you’re fucking weird.”

“Still playing the part of a prude?’

“Just because I have had sex, doesn’t mean I can’t still be a prude. Besides, I don’t think it’s even possible.”

“Want to bet?”

“No. I somehow don’t see myself coming out on top on that one.”

“We could make arrangements for that. On top, on bottom, sideways, crossways, upside down. We can experiment. I’m very flexible.”

“Ha ha. No.”

“Alright, we don’t have to do anything. Just come to my room.”

“You want me to come to your room?”

“I knew that would get your attention. You and those other imbeciles sure tried long enough to get past my wards.”

He was right about that. Nothing they tried had worked. Mundungus had even tried, and he was notorious for being able to break in anywhere. This was the perfect opportunity to see his room. She should do this for the Order. It was her duty. Besides she was terribly curious. Of course, there was probably a catch. “Why do you even want to show me your room? If I do go, you’re not going to get anything out of it; that’s for sure. I’m not having sex with you just so I can see your frigging room.”

Regulus shrugged. “I’m bored. And as far as the sex, we’ll see about that, won’t we?” Hermione glared but turned toward the door. Regulus shook his head. “Not that way.” He beckoned her toward the painting.

Hermione moved a chair over to the painting and stood on it tentatively. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Going to a strange man’s bedroom who obviously had plans to seduce her was not the brightest idea she had ever had. It was maybe one of the dumbest. Well, besides Goyle. The Order was really going to owe her big time for this. She took a deep breath and stepped through the barrier of the painting. She was amazed at the sight that met her. Stunned really.

They were in a kitchen the same as the one she had just left. It was the same, yet so very different. Everything was so vivid, and the colors were so vibrant. She could see every brush stroke. The sensations were overwhelming. She couldn’t think and that left her feeling a little lost. Regulus pulled on her hand and led her through a long corridor. It was difficult to make sense of what was happening. Everything was so strange. All she could do was follow him. They passed by frame after frame hanging on the wall. The frames were filled with a shimmering light, and she could barely make out the images inside them. She caught a glimpse of the study and her bedroom. And one of them looked like Malfoy’s bedroom. 

When Regulus finally stopped pulling her, they were in the painting of a bedroom she had never seen before at Grimmauld Place. She could see the real bedroom through a frame on the wall just beyond Regulus, but it was hazy and difficult to make out. She looked around in awe of the painting she was now in. The room was very grand with a large four-poster bed right in the center of the room with rich green velvet hangings and an expensive looking embroidered bed spread with silver threads running through it. There was a sumptuous Oriental carpet covering almost the entire floor with an intricate design that upon close inspection appeared to be hundreds of green serpents entwined together. The furniture was massive and made of dark mahogany, which was ornately carved and gave the room a majestic feel. On the ceiling of the room was a painting of a crest, the Slytherin crest. The room was rich. It was powerful. It was Regulus. 

“This is your bedroom?” whispered Hermione in awe. This was the one room in Grimmauld Place that the Order was unable to get into. Countless spells had been tried, but nothing could penetrate the wards that protected this room. It was most probable that no one had set foot inside Regulus’s room since the day he died. She had always been curious about what was behind that locked door. And now she was here. Or at least in a very authentic reproduction of it.

“Yes, this is my own private hell, but at the moment it feels more like heaven. I want to show you something,” said Regulus. He took her to a floor length mirror beside the bed and stood her in front of it. “Look.”

Hermione looked into the mirror and gasped at what she saw. It was her, but she was…

“Beautiful,” said Regulus from behind her with his hands on her shoulders. “You are the most breathtaking sight I have ever seen.”

Hermione couldn’t help but stare. She had never seen herself this way before. It was as though she were looking at the most exquisite painting she had ever seen. Her horrible frizzy hair that normally plagued her was a glossy mass of untamed curls. Her boring brown eyes sparkled and were filled with passion and longing and desire. Her ordinary lips were the color of wild rose petals and were just waiting to be kissed. She couldn’t take her eyes off of herself, not even when Regulus started unbuttoning her shirt and sliding it off her shoulders. All she could do was look on in wonder with each piece of clothing he removed. It was like seeing a masterpiece for the first time. He was undressing her, and she couldn’t stop him. She didn’t want to stop him. 

She stood there in front of the mirror naked and vulnerable, and yet she wanted the world to see. She felt like what she was seeing was too beautiful not to share. It was her body but not as she usually saw it. She did not look upon herself with a critical eye. This was a body to be loved. Her skin looked so soft that she had to touch it. She tentatively pressed her hand to her hip and marveled at the sensations she experienced. Regulus put his hand over hers and slowly slid their hands up her body. It was all too much, but she longed for more. This was her body, and this was a body to be ravished. 

She turned toward Regulus. She needed to see him, to feel him. It was like being in a museum and knowing you shouldn’t touch the art on display but having such an intense longing to be a part of the genius of it that the urge to touch it is too overwhelming to ignore. She soon had Regulus’s shirt off and was running her fingers across his strong chest. Her fingers traveled over every bit of him, and then trailed down his arms leading her to his Dark Mark. She had never seen one up close before. It was evil and yet beautiful at the same time. The design was so intricate. It was powerful but also delicate. She couldn’t help herself; she had to touch it. His skin was so smooth and felt so real. He truly felt alive at her touch. She looked up and saw the need in his eyes. And then she pulled Regulus into a kiss that would be forever seared into her memory. He pushed her back onto the bed, and she could feel the velvet gently caressing her skin along with his hands and lips. He left fiery kisses all over her body and then before she could even comprehend what was happening, he was pushing her senses over the edge and the colors around her were swirling and blending and transforming into something new and different. Something exciting and wonderful and beautiful. It was absolutely terrifying.

Hermione found herself fleeing down the hallway searching desperately for a frame to make her escape. She had to get away from him, from this place, from what had just happened. She was running away because she didn’t know what else to do. She finally found what she was looking for and flung herself into her room before Regulus could stop her. She fell to her floor in a heap. The reality of it all was like a slap to her face. It was enough to make her bury her face in her hands. Everything looked too harsh now, too real. She just sat there on the floor trembling trying to catch her breath, trying to regain her grasp on reality. What had she just done? She tried to stand up but her legs were so wobbly that she collapsed again.

“It takes a while to get use to the real world,” said Regulus from his painting. “And of course to recover from that mind blowing sex we just had.”

“You, you… You seduced me!”

“Well, of course I did. How else would I get you to have sex with a painting?”

“You put a spell on me.”

“I’m a painting. I can’t use magic.”

“But it was so…”

“Incredible? Yes, I would have to agree. If I had known what it felt like to shag a Mudblood, I would have never become a Death Eater in the first place. Too bad, you weren’t born in my time. You could have changed the course of the world.”

“Who says I would have shagged you if I was born in your time?”

“You would have. I’m irresistible.”

“At the moment, I’m not finding you very irresistible at all.”

“Oh, yeah? You couldn’t keep your hands off of me a few minutes ago,” said Regulus smugly.

“That’s only because you used magic on me!”

“I told you, I can’t use magic.”

“All I know is that ‘thing’ that just happened between us was magical.”

“Why thank you.”

“I wasn’t complimenting you. I meant that it felt like magic was involved.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.”

“Well, the painted world is magic.”

“And you used it to manipulate me, didn’t you?”

“You can’t use that kind of magic. It just is. It just heightened all of your senses. You wanted to shag me.”

“I did not.”

“You did, or you wouldn’t have done it. And you wouldn’t have enjoyed it so much.”

Hermione didn’t know how to respond to that. She had enjoyed it. She had a funny feeling he was right. And that the only reason she was making a big deal of it was because she was embarrassed by the fact that she had just had the best shag of her life with a fucking painting of a dead Death Eater. A dead Slytherin Death Eater. And she didn’t even have alcohol to blame for it. Fuck! She needed another shower.

She was soon standing under a cold stream of water and feeling slightly grateful for it when she heard Malfoy bang on the door. “Why the fuck are you taking a shower again?” shouted Malfoy through the door.

“Go away, Malfoy. I’m not in the mood for you right now,” said Hermione, reluctantly turning off the shower. She was starting to shiver.

“Like you’re ever in the mood for me unless you want sex.”

Hermione threw on her robe and flung open the door. “What the hell do you want?”

Malfoy looked her up and down and then said, “We have company.”

“What!”

“You heard me. I’m not repeating myself.”

“Who is it? What did they say?”

“I’m not a fucking owl. Go see for yourself.”

“Well, let me at least get dressed first.”

“Just come on. I’m not going down there alone. It doesn’t really matter what you wear. All of them have probably already seen you naked, anyway,” said Malfoy sarcastically.

“Who the fuck is here?” asked Hermione, becoming alarmed.

Despite Malfoy’s protests, Hermione stopped at her room and got dressed. Malfoy wouldn’t give her a clue to who the company was, and she wasn’t getting herself into any more awkward situations. She used a drying spell on her hair, took the time to put on some light makeup and even put on a nice dress just in case. When she came out of her room, she was surprised to see Malfoy still waiting for her. “Why are you still here?” she asked annoyed.

“You’re wearing a dress,” accused Malfoy. “And makeup?”

“So?”

“Do you think you’re going on a date or something?” asked Malfoy angrily.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You won’t tell me who’s here, so I just thought I should look somewhat presentable.”

“Well, you look like you think you’re going out on a fucking date,” grumbled Malfoy.

“Are you trying to give me a compliment?” asked Hermione pointedly.

“No!”

“Good, because it was a frigging poor excuse for one.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” said Malfoy, resigned to what seemed like a fate worse than death.

When she walked through the kitchen door, she knew exactly where he was coming from. She felt a little like she was walking into a death trap or perhaps a torture session was more accurate. Standing in the kitchen with a smirk on his face was Goyle. Goyle was in Grimmauld place. Just like in her dream. Oh my God. She was a fucking seer. Well, not a very good one. Although probably as good as Trelawney. What she hadn’t seen in her dream, which she could have never predicted in even her wildest dreams was that standing next to him would be Crabbe and her parents. Bloody hell.

Remus stepped forward. “Now, Hermione don’t be alarmed. Everything is going to be alright.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows slightly. “My parents and Crabbe and Goyle are here. You really think this is alright?”

“What I meant to say is that your parents are safe now,” said Remus.

“Oh,” said Hermione, feeling slightly guilty about that last comment.

“Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe here overheard a conversation between their fathers about an attack that was planned on your house. Mr. Goyle notified me immediately, and I have just brought them all here for safe keeping.”

“Can’t you just send them to Australia or something,” asked Hermione. “Wouldn’t that be safer?” she added when she noticed their glares. 

“I’m not going to bloody Australia. They have fucking kangaroos there,” said Mr. Granger. “And they grill shrimp on a fucking barbecue pit. What the hell is that all about? Boiling isn’t good enough for them?”

“I wouldn’t mind experiencing some thunder down under,” said Mrs. Granger agreeably.

“This is really the safest place,” said Remus. “We wouldn’t want to take any unnecessary risks with your family.”

“Alright,” agreed Hermione, although very reluctantly. “What about them though?” she asked, indicating Crabbe and Goyle. “Can’t we take unnecessary risks with them?”

“Hermione!” Mrs. Granger scolded. “You are being very rude. They saved our lives. They are heroes. Your father has even forgiven Gregory for deflowering you.”

Crabbe snorted.

“Oh really,” said Hermione, trying her best not to be embarrassed. “And has he forgiven him about the shrimp incident, as well?”

“Not bloody likely,” said Mr. Granger. “Shrimp swiping shit.”

“Anyway,” said Remus, clearing his throat and effectively interrupting what could have turned into a real fight. “They will all be staying at Grimmauld Place until other arrangements can be made.”

“Stuck in a house with my parents and four Slytherins. What fun,” said Hermione sarcastically.

“Well, if you are referring to these strapping young men, that does sound like fun,” said Mrs. Granger distractedly, eyeing Draco’s ass again.

“Yeah, some fun. I could simply die from having so much fun. Perhaps I’ll just kill myself now and get it over with.”

“You’re so dramatic, Hermione,” said Mrs. Granger, her eyes wandering, checking out other asses.

“Four Slytherins?” questioned Remus. Leave it to Remus to catch everything. Was he sniffing just now? Why was he sniffing?

“Yeah, Granger. Can’t you count?” asked Crabbe, reveling in someone else's stupidity for once.

“Never mind,” said Hermione quickly but still taking the time to glare over at Crabbe. “I mean, I guess it just seemed like four because there are so many of them, and they are all so annoying,” said Hermione. She was not explaining Regulus. Not now. She looked over at Remus. Oh God. He was still sniffing. His keen werewolf senses were in overdrive. He knew. He knew she had sex. Hot, sweaty, painted sex.

“I believe she was referring to me. Hello, Remus,” said Regulus from the wall.

“Oh, Regulus. I didn’t see you there. It’s been a while. I wasn’t aware that you and Hermione had met,” said Remus, trying to sound casual but eyeing Regulus suspiciously.

“Yes, we’ve gotten quite ‘close’. Haven’t we, Hermione?” insinuated Regulus most annoyingly.

“Yes, we’ve met,” said Hermione in a clipped tone. She then sent Regulus a warning glare.

“Why don’t you introduce us to your friend, dear,” said Mrs. Granger. “And please do it properly this time. We wouldn’t want any more awkward situations.”

“Fine. Mum, Dad. This is Regulus Black. He’s dead.”

“Oh dear. I’m so sorry to hear that. You seem like such a nice young man. And so handsome,” gushed Mrs. Granger.

“It’s a fucking painting, Jean,” said Mr. Granger.

“Oh, Bob. Don’t be such a Mubble. Muffle. Muddle?” asked Mrs. Granger, looking inquiringly at Hermione.

“It’s Muggle, but Dad’s right. It’s just a painting. He’s not real or anything. It’s not real,” she said, trying to convince herself.

“Well, I know one thing that sure wasn’t fake,” said Regulus, winking at Hermione.

“Did you fuck him?” accused Malfoy and Goyle at the same time.

Hermione had absolutely nothing to say to that. The truth was completely out of the question, and she needed more time to come up with a halfway decent lie. She braced herself for them to turn on her but instead they turned on each other.

“Why do you even care, Malfoy? You don’t even like her. Or, so you say,” said Goyle mockingly.

“Oh, and you do like her? Just enough to shag her, I bet. And we all know just how much she likes you. She can’t even remember your name when you are fucking her.” 

“Well, at least we did fuck. What have you been doing this whole time? Talking? Playing stupid games?” 

“Just because she shagged you doesn’t mean she likes you.”

“She liked me enough to marry me!”

“She what!” shouted just about everybody in the room.”

“You married fucking Goyle?” asked Malfoy angrily, glaring at Hermione.

Hermione had been inching her way to the fireplace to make her grand escape. She was thinking she might be safer with the Death Eaters than trapped in a house with these loons. However, thanks to fucking Goyle and his big mouth, she wasn’t going anywhere. At least they forgot about Regulus. “Did I forget to mention that? I may have done something like that while under the influence,” said Hermione vaguely.

“You actually married that shrimp stealing shit?” asked Mr. Granger incredulously.

Before Hermione could answer, her Mum had her and Goyle in a big embrace and she was saying, “Welcome to the family, Gregory. If I had wanted children, I would have wanted to have a son just like you. Call us Mum and Dad.”

“Alright Mum and… Mr. Granger,” said Goyle, after looking over at Mr. Granger.

“Oh, Hermione. I knew you wouldn’t have premarital sex,” said Mrs. Granger, looking at her proudly.

“Of course not, Mum.” Best not to mention Viktor right now. Or ever.

“But you’ve been a very bad girl. You and Gregory are still newlyweds, and you’ve already had an affair. True it was just with a painting and all, so it maybe doesn’t technically count, but really it can’t be good for Gregory’s performance anxiety. You don’t want to have problems in the bedroom. It’s not good for the marriage. Well, you can work on it tonight, anyway.”

Hermione was almost afraid to ask. “What?”

“Well, since we’re stuck here, and you two will be sharing a bedroom; you’ll have all kinds of time to practice.”

Hermione looked at her blankly. What the fuck?

“Sex. Married people have sex.”

“You want me to have sex. With Goyle?”

“No. Why would you have sex with your husband when you could do it with a painting,” said Mrs. Granger sarcastically. “No offense Regulus, dear. I’m sure the sex was very… colorful.”

“Yes, it was Mrs. Granger. Quite.”

“Speaking of that, how exactly does that work?” asked Remus. “Sex with a magical painting. It’s very curious indeed. I’ve never heard of such a thing. I’d be quite interested to hear the details, from an academic standpoint that is,” he added thoughtfully.

“Yeah, and I’d be interested to hear the details from a porn standpoint,” said Crabbe, grinning wickedly.

“Maybe some other time. I think I’m going to go to my room. It’s been a rather long day,” said Hermione, excusing herself. “I’ll see you later Remus. Mum, Dad. Glad you’re alive. Crabbe can’t say the same to you.”

“I’ll come with you, dear. You can show me to our room,” said Goyle, glancing over at Malfoy as he said it. 

Hermione sent Goyle a fake smile and whispered in his ear, ”Just because we are unfortunately married doesn’t mean you can call me dear.”

“That’s alright. I have several other names I’d like to call you,” Goyle whispered back.

“Yes, well, I have a few I’d like to call you as well, you shit,” said Hermione, dragging him through the door and closing it behind her. “Why would you tell them that we are married? Do you want to ruin my life?”

“Oh, did I scare off Malfoy and that shitty painting of yours? So, sorry to ruin your love life like that. On the bright side, you probably have a few other idiots on the side you can use as backup.”

“I don’t give a fuck about Malfoy, although he’s probably going to give me a lot of shit over this. And if you think a little thing like being married would hold back Regulus when my blood and the fact that he is dead and a frigging painting hasn’t, then you’re even dumber than I originally thought you were. And there is only one other boy on the side, and he is going to kick your ass when he finds out we’re married.”

“I’m not scared of Weasley.”

“I never said it was Ron.”

“Of course, it isn’t. Because you’re still working your way through Slytherin. You know, you could get to Gryffindor a lot sooner if you would stick to Slytherins in our year or maybe just skip all of the dead ones.”

“Ha ha. You’re so funny. It just so happens I am through with Slytherins.”

“Good luck with that, being that you are married to one.”

“Just a technicality.”

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Goyle.”

“You can call me Ms. Granger. I have decided to keep my maiden name.”

“I’ll just stick with Granger, unless Malfoy’s around. Then I’ll call you something nauseating.”

“Why are you here, Goyle?”

“Well. I couldn’t let my father go killing my in-laws, now could I?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Here’s my room. Let’s get in and have some pretend sex, so my Mum will leave me alone.”

“Why pretend?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to follow Regulus.”

“Is that a challenge?” asked Goyle, pointing his wand at the bed and enlarging it.

“No. It’s a fact,” said Hermione, pointing her wand and turning it into two single beds.

“I can’t sleep in that,” complained Goyle.

“How about this?” asked Hermione, turning them into bunk beds.

“Who gets to be on top?” asked Goyle suggestively.

“No one,” said Hermione, turning the bunk bed back into two single beds again.

“Well, I am not sleeping on that,” said Goyle.

“Fine,” smirked Hermione, plopping down on her bed. “You can sleep on that,” she said turning the other bed into a couch. “One more word, and it turns into a doghouse.” Hermione turned over on her nice comfy bed and took a well-deserved nap. When she woke up, it was dark outside and her stomach was rumbling. She never did get to eat her breakfast earlier. Goyle was snoring away, so she quietly crept out of her room to head to the kitchen to find something to eat. 

When she got into the hall, she heard noises coming from Malfoy’s room. She pressed her ear against Malfoy’s door. It sounded like he was moaning or was in some kind of terrible pain. Maybe he was just having a bad dream. Or maybe Crabbe was trying to kill him. He had been pretty upset with Malfoy about the whole having to dress up like a girl thing. Maybe Crabbe and Goyle saving her parents was just a way to get at Malfoy. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but it would look pretty bad if Malfoy was killed on her watch. She was responsible for him after all. It would probably go on her permanent record.

Hermione turned the handle on Malfoy’s door and slowly opened it a crack. She would just peek in to make sure he wasn’t being killed or anything. However, what she saw just about killed her. It was the most horrible thing she could have ever witnessed. Worse than walking in on murder. Worse than walking in on her parents having sex. She closed the door without making a sound and made her way to the kitchen. She was feeling numb but not numb enough. She searched through the cabinets until she found what she was looking for. A bottle of firewhisky. She sat at the kitchen table in silence and drank. She was almost halfway through the bottle when she heard someone come in. “Get the fuck out of here. I’m not in the mood.”

“I didn’t come in here to have sex with you, I was just looking for a midnight snack. Of course, we both know those two things don’t have to be mutually exclusive,” he said smirking. Of course.

Hermione blushed remembering Malfoy covered in whip cream and chocolate cake. She was starting to get hungry again. Even worse, she was starting to feel things and not in her heart. Stupid firewhisky.

He sat down next to her and took a swig out of her bottle. “So, want to get pissed?”

“I already am.”

“That’s convenient.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Want to play a game?”

“I’m tired of games.”

“Want to fuck?”

Hermione looked at him through bleary eyes. “Okay.”

“What?”

“I said okay.”

“I heard you. I just didn’t believe you.”

“Well, then believe this,” said Hermione, leaning in and kissing him. It was warm and sweet and just what she needed right now. She needed to forget.

“So, want to come to my place Mrs. Goyle?”

“Call me Ms. Granger, and I’ll come wherever you want.”

“Ms. Granger, it is,” and he scooped her up and carried her off to his room.

Hermione woke up the next morning with a blinding headache. Her whole body was stiff, and she was in a really uncomfortable position precariously perched on the edge of the small bed as the giant bear next to her was hogging the bed as well as the covers. Fuck! Did she sleep with Goyle again? She yanked on the blankets to cover up her naked body and came face to face with reality. “Crabbe!”

“Fuck, Granger. Can you keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep here.”

“Well, some of us are too busy having a nervous break down to fucking care!”

“Then go do it somewhere else,” said Crabbe, yanking back the blankets and knocking Hermione right off the bed.

Hermione found all of her clothes, except of course her knickers, and stomped out of the room. She needed a shower. Now. She fled to the bathroom and got under the hot water and scrubbed. And then she scrubbed some more. She was considering scrubbing again when there was a loud banging on the door.

“Granger, I know you’re in there again. Get the bloody hell out. I need a shower. Now!”

“Wait your fucking turn, Malfoy.” This was all his fault. She scrubbed again.

When she left the bathroom, Malfoy practically knocked her over rushing to the shower.

Hermione went back to her room to get dressed. She could feel eyes watching her. What did it really matter? They were married. And the other pair of eyes? Well, they belonged to a fucking painting.

“Regulus told me you were with Crabbe last night,” said Goyle.

“Tattletale,” said Hermione.

“He also told me about Malfoy.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“We think you have an unhealthy relationship with Malfoy.”

“Oh, you do, do you? Is this some sort of intervention?” asked Hermione.

“You could say that,” said Goyle.

“Then I’m going to breakfast.”

When she got to the kitchen her parents were already sitting at the table in their robes drinking tea. Her father was frowning at the paper. He couldn’t get used to the moving pictures. Crabbe and Malfoy were there, too, glaring at one another. Goyle came in shortly after her and Regulus popped into his painting about the same time. It was just one big happy family.

“You look like shit,” said Crabbe when he looked at her.

“Good morning to you too, Crabbe,” said Hermione, scowling at him.

“Oh God, you’re pregnant,” accused Mrs. Granger.

“It can’t be mine; I’m impotent,” said Crabbe immediately.

“Impotent means you can’t get it up, dip shit,” said Malfoy.

“Well, I can certainly do that. Right, Granger?” said Crabbe, winking at her.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” said Hermione, turning green. Figures it would be a Slytherin color.

“Am I the only one here who hasn’t fucked Granger,” asked Malfoy.

“I wouldn’t say you haven’t fucked a Granger, Malfoy,” said Hermione scowling.

“That’s why your father and I married. The very first time we had sex, I got pregnant. I’m very fertile. That’s why I had your father fixed. I never wanted children, really.”

“Well, I guess I must have a little thug growing inside of me then,” said Hermione sarcastically.

“Maybe, it’s more like a work of art,” said Regulus winking.

Mrs. Granger looked horrified. “Oh, Hermione. What were you thinking? Giving birth to a baby is a very painful experience. Can you imagine what it would be like to have a gilt frame come out of your…”

“Thank you Mum for that very lovely visual, but I am not pregnant!” Her life just couldn't suck that much.

“I’m too young to be a grandmother,” complained Mrs. Granger. “How could you be so inconsiderate, Hermione?”

“Really, honey. I’m in the prime of my life. I can’t be married to a grandmother,” said Mr. Granger. “Now, your mother and I will have to get a divorce, and she’ll probably want the house.”

“And the car,” sniffed Mrs. Granger.

“So, I’ll have to move and take the bus. Quite a hassle really. And buses smell.”

“Ooh, and I’ll get an expensive divorce lawyer that you’ll have to pay for, and I'll get all of the money, too. Don’t forget that, dear,” said Mrs. Granger, cheering up a bit.

“So, I’ll be homeless and poor. How am I supposed to find some blond bimbo to date to make me feel young again? I’ll have to use the fucking Internet,” complained Mr. Granger.

“I want a blond bimbo, too,” said Mrs. Granger, winking at Malfoy.

“You’ve already had a blond bimbo, Mum.”

“And I wouldn’t mind having him again. You should have had him while you could Hermione. Now, I have dibs.”

“How can you talk like that in front of Dad?”

“Well, I guess we can tell you since you are sexually active now. Very sexually active it seems. You’re father and I are swingers. We have an open marriage. We do what we want and who we want. Your father is only sulking because the only blond bimbo around here is Draco.”

“Fucking luck,” grumbled Mr. Granger.

“I’m not a bimbo,” grumbled Malfoy.

Hermione shoved a piece of toast in her mouth and glared at the four Slytherins around her. They were going to be the death of her yet. Three of them were completely ignoring her at the moment. Crabbe was probably still worried she was pregnant. Goyle was probably still angry with her because he thought she liked Malfoy, even though he should have been mad at her for shagging his best friend. Maybe Goyle really was stupid. And Malfoy was a mother fucker. Regulus, however, was staring at her with an odd expression on his face. He finally inclined his head toward the door and disappeared. Hermione left the kitchen and headed for her room. She needed to talk to Regulus. Something had changed between them. Something wasn’t right. When she got to her room, she sat on her bed waiting for Regulus. When he appeared, he wasn’t alone. “You traitor!”

“I am not a traitor. I never told you I was on your side. In fact, I very clearly told you that I am only on one side, mine,” said Regulus.

“You are a liar. You are on his side, you fucking Death Eater,” spat Hermione.

“Well, yes I suppose I am,” admitted Regulus. “My life rather depends upon it.”

“Your life,” laughed Hermione mirthlessly. “You’re already dead.”

“No, actually I’m not. Do you really think we could have done what we did if I was dead?”

“But you are, aren’t you?” asked Hermione angry and confused.

“No, just cursed into this painting. You see, I defied the Dark Lord once. I have learned my lesson. There is nothing I can deny him now, not even you. I’m really sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione tore her eyes away from Regulus and looked into the red eyes of death. Shit. Slytherins really were going to be the death of her. 

“Avada Kedavra!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally posted on April 1, 2009. Do I have to say it? April Fools! "Four Fun" stands for April Fun and was only written for fun and not as part of the real story. It is just a joke. I really wish I could have posted it on this site for April Fool's Day, but it was just too far away. I hope you enjoyed my little joke and aren't too mad! I threw in every evil thing I could think of into this crazy chapter. 
> 
> So, in case you are still confused: Hermione did not shag Crabbe or Regulus (yet!), the Grangers and Crabbe and Goyle are not staying at Grimmauld Place, Hermione did not marry Goyle (that I know of!), Malfoy did not have sex with Mrs. Granger, Voldemort did not kill Hermione, and Regulus really is dead (I think!) This chapter was written to annoy, shock, anger and disgust you, but most of all to make you laugh. 
> 
> Now, feel sorry for the 300 or so people who read this when it was originally posted and didn't bother to review because they had to wait until the next chapter was up to find out that this was all a joke! I probably lost more than a few readers over this, but I still think it was totally worth it. This is by far the most epic prank I have ever pulled off! :)


	28. Regulus’s Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important! Please read this! For those of you who read the last chapter “Four Fun” and didn’t bother reading the author’s note at the end, it was just a joke, written “for fun” for April Fool’s Day. So, none of that crazy stuff really happened. I decided to leave that chapter in the story because one, it was a lot of work and two, I think it’s fitting to have a real prank in a story full of pranks. I think it helps the readers identify with poor Hermione and all she is going through in this story. Just be grateful you didn’t have eggs coming out of your, well you know. 
> 
> So, this is the real chapter. I hope you enjoy it. I fear that it will be rather anticlimactic after the last chapter, but you can’t have Draco having sex with Hermione’s mum in every chapter, now can you!

Hermione stomped off angrily down the steps and headed toward the kitchen. Malfoy was such a shit. As if going out on one measly pretend date with her was the worse thing in the world. It’s not like he had to kiss her at the end of the night or anything. This was strictly business, and she was the one getting the short end of the stick anyway. She not only had to break off her date with Viktor, she had to baby-sit that prick all day. And if that weren’t bad enough, she’d probably be wearing an ugly bridesmaid dress while she was doing it. Hermione couldn’t help reflecting on just how much her life sucked when she suddenly ran into someone she really didn’t want to see at the moment or ever really. Her day just seemed to keep getting worse.

“I hope you die, you stupid Mudblood whore!”

Hermione held her temper as best she could and somehow managed to say through clenched teeth, “Good morning to you too, Mrs. Black.” 

Dressed rather primly in heavy back dress robes, Mrs. Black looked like quite the refined lady in her ornate frame. That is until she opened her mouth. “How dare you defile my son and contaminate him with your filth and perverted ways,” accused Mrs. Black.

Hermione couldn’t help thinking that Mrs. Black would make the worst mother in-law ever. Not that she would ever marry Regulus. He was a painting. And a prat. “I have done no such thing,” said Hermione quite offended. “He’s a pervert all on his own. I’m not responsible for that. It’s probably genetic or perhaps environmental. Your son used to hang around a lot of disturbing people, you know.”

“You tainted him with your filthy Mudblood whoring,” hissed Mrs. Black.

Whoring! That was totally uncalled for. For the most part. “Now wait just a minute. I’ll admit, I did kiss him, which could have caused some cross contamination if my Muggleness was indeed contagious, which it is not, but I would hardly call that ‘whoring’. He’s the one trying to shag me. He’s the whore. In fact, he touched me quite inappropriately just this morning. You should really have a little talk with him.”

“My son would never touch a foul Mudblood whore like you,” said Mrs. Black adamantly.

“He would, and he did,” said Hermione just as adamantly.

“You lying filthy bitch,” accused Mrs. Black.

“Oh, I’m lying, am I? You really think your son would never touch a Muggle-born witch?”

“Never. He would never touch a Mudblood like you. You’re not even an attractive enough slut to tempt him.”

Now that was just plain mean. Therefore, Hermione didn’t feel the least bit bad for what she was about to say. In fact, she felt rather smug about it. “You must be so proud of him then. It must be very comforting to know that your son would never touch a Mudblood bitch like me. That you don’t have to worry about the depraved animalistic things we’re doing to each other right in the very next room. That you don’t have to picture my Mudblood hands all over his naked painted body. Or think about him screaming my Muggle name as he thrusts himself inside of me over and over again, wasting all of his pureblood seed on a Mudblood whore. It is so fortunate that you know your son would never do those things because I’m sure the very thought of it would be most unpleasant for you indeed. Well, I’m off to the kitchen now. To have sex with your son. Have a good day, Mrs. Black,” said Hermione, already walking away.

“Filthy, lying Mudblood slut! Dirty blooded bitch of a Mudblood whore!” bellowed Mrs. Black.

It was official now. This day had officially turned to shit. And what really sucked was that it was supposed to be Malfoy’s shitty day not hers. Those stupid Slytherins were always screwing her over, one way or another. She was in a very bad mood and if she didn’t eat something very soon she was going to Avada someone. And it was really a toss up as to which Slytherin it would be. “Fuck off, Regulus,” said Hermione, walking into the kitchen without even looking up.

“I didn’t even say anything yet,” said Regulus indignantly.

“Alright, what were you going to say?” asked Hermione pointedly.

“I was just going to ask you which position you preferred for our first shag?” asked Regulus smoothly.”Perhaps, one of the more animalistic ones?”

“Fuck off, Regulus.”

“Well, aren’t you the fucking seer?”

“Please. I am most certainly not a seer. Don’t insult me. That particular response is appropriate no matter what you say.”

“Why are you in such a pissy mood? That time of the month?”

“No. I’m in a wedding tomorrow, and now I have to go on a date with Malfoy.”

“So, haven’t you already done that? If I remember correctly, that one ended on ‘friendly’ terms,” said Regulus suggestively.

“That wasn’t a date,” huffed Hermione.

“It sure looked like one.”

“Well, it wasn’t. This time, I have to pretend that I’m in love with him in front of all my friends when all I want to do is wring his stupid little neck. I had to ask him out on a fucking date after what happened this morning.”

“Oh, so that’s what this is about. You’re feeling rejected, and it was humiliating to have to grovel to get him to go on a date with you,” Regulus sneered.

“I didn’t grovel. I threatened him,” Hermione replied crossly.

“Whatever, the point is that you are feeling insecure and vulnerable at the moment. That’s why this is the perfect time for us to have sex. You’ll feel better about yourself, and I’ll finally get some, after almost 20 years.”

“Well, that’s all well and good, but aren’t you forgetting something?” asked Hermione.

“What? Don’t tell me I have to tell you a bunch of romantic shit I don’t mean just to get in your pants. Isn’t mind-blowing sex enough for you? All right. How about this? Here is a poem especially for you. 'Your eyes are the color of mud. Your hair is also the color of mud. Even your blood is the color of mud. You are mud, and I want to get dirty and roll around in you.' I call it ‘Ode to Mud’. What do you think?” asked Regulus.

“I think you weren’t getting sex before and now you really aren’t getting sex. That was absolutely horrible. Probably the most vile poem I’ve ever heard that wasn’t a limerick,” proclaimed Hermione.

“It wasn’t that bad. Once you get past the mud part,” replied Regulus. 

“The whole poem was about mud,” said Hermione exasperatedly. “How am I supposed to get past that?”

“What about the part where I want to roll around in you? That’s some pretty romantic shit.”

“That’s just plain shit, Regulus.”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter anyway. I’m still getting sex. I heard you say so to Malfoy and Mum,” said Regulus confidently.

“Eavesdropper. I was just saying that to piss them off. I didn’t really mean it. And although I really enjoyed the absurdity of you trying to be romantic with that crappy little poem of yours, the thing that you are forgetting is that you are a painting.”

“So?”

“So, you are hanging on a fucking wall. How would we even do it, logistically speaking?” 

Regulus shrugged. “Simple really. I’ll just unstick myself. Then you can take me to the table, floor, your bed, wherever. Or if you prefer, you could just stand on a chair like you did earlier. I’m flexible. A fuck is a fuck. And now that we have that settled, we can get to it because we already know the touching part works, now don’t we?” he added with a knowing smile.

Hermione couldn’t really argue there. The touching part most definitely did work. It kind of creeped her out how her body responded to the touch of a painting. Hot and heavy painted sex was way too kinky for Hermione Granger. “I am not having sex with you. I have more important things to do and am not really interested in getting paint in uncomfortable places.”

“What could be more important than shagging?”

“Saving the wizarding world and food. I’m starving,” said Hermione, beginning to make herself lunch and a pot of tea.

“Malfoy didn’t satisfy you last night?” quipped Regulus.

“No, he did not,” said Hermione trying not to blush over his reference to the whole late night snack episode. It was embarrassing enough without knowing that Regulus had been watching the whole time.

“You can lick food off my body if you want to,” said Regulus seductively licking his lips.

“No thank you. I would just be wasting my time preparing lunch if I wanted to lose it.”

“So, how are you going to save the wizarding world anyway?” asked Regulus, seeming surprisingly interested.

“That is none of your business.”

“You don’t know, do you?” said Regulus with a smirk.

Hermione glared at him and then noisily piled her lunch and pot of tea on a tray and stalked out of the kitchen. She hated it when Regulus was right. It was really annoying. The truth was, she had absolutely no idea how to save the wizarding world. Instead of spending her time productively researching Horcruxes like she was supposed to, she had been busy playing house with a dumb painting and an even dumber dumb ass. She had been so wrapped up with her work for the Order and getting even with Malfoy that she had completely neglected her most important task, finding out how to destroy Horcruxes. 

Now, she was faced with the unpleasant prospect of confronting Harry and Ron tomorrow completely empty handed. She felt like a complete failure. There wasn’t much time left to get the job done, but she would do her best even if it took all night. She did not want to have to explain to Harry and Ron exactly why she had been too busy to do any research whatsoever. Somehow, she didn’t think they would be very understanding about her work for the Order that incredulously involved playing drinking games with Crabbe and Goyle, shagging Goyle, almost kissing Malfoy, laying eggs, licking food off of Malfoy’s body and being groped by a painting. And that wasn’t even everything that she had been up to since she had last seen them. Purposefully, Hermione walked into the study determined to get some actual work done for once. She closed the door behind her to avoid being disturbed. With a sigh, she looked at all the books around her. There were hundreds. Where to begin?

“Need some help?”

Startled, Hermione jumped up and nearly dumped over her entire tray of food. “Regulus! You scared the crap out of me. You can’t just pop in on people like that.”

“Apparently I can,” said Regulus amused.

“Go away, Regulus. You’re wasting my time.”

“You’re wasting your time. You’re obviously looking for something in particular. Do you really think you can find what you are looking for without my help?” asked Regulus condescendingly.

“Why would you want to help me? “ asked Hermione suspiciously. “What happened to you not being on anyone’s side but your own?”

“Well, that is still the case. However, I believe that by helping you I will help myself.”

“Oh, and how do you figure that?” asked Hermione sarcastically.

“You’re obviously searching for something that you need to find in a hurry, probably before the wedding tomorrow. If I help you find it sooner rather than later, we’ll still have time to shag before you leave tomorrow.

“I already told you that I am not shagging you.”

“Even if you are feeling very grateful?”

“How grateful?”

“Very.”

“I’m not a whore like your mother seems to think,” Hermione huffed.

“I know, but I have a feeling, you would be in the mood to celebrate.”

“What do you think I’m looking for?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Well, then tell me where it is, and we’ll just see how grateful I am.”

“No, no, no. You have to ask nicely,” said Regulus infuriatingly.

“Oh, honestly,” said Hermione exasperatedly. “I doubt this is even worth it.”

“I think you are rather desperate. Can you really chance it?”

Hermione all but growled at him. She really was desperate. And If Regulus really could help, it would be worth it to be a little nice. “Regulus would you please help me?” asked Hermione with as little sarcasm as was possible without choking on the words.

“With what?” asked Regulus innocently.

“I thought you already knew,” said Hermione, narrowing her eyes.

“I do, but I want you to tell me. Friends trust each other,” said Regulus.

“Who said we were friends?” asked Hermione angrily.

“Friends help each other. Enemies do not. Which are we, Hermione?”

“What about annoying acquaintances? What do they do?”

“They are annoyingly unhelpful,” Regulus retorted.

“Well, you certainly have that down. I don’t know how you can expect me to trust you so easily, Regulus. You are a Death Eater after all. How do I know you weren’t sent here to spy on me for Voldemort?”

“Yeah, because the Dark Lord is so interested in your sexcapades,” said Regulus sarcastically.

“I’m Harry Potter’s friend. He’s interested in everything I do. And I’m not having sexcapades!”

“Not with me anyway. Yet.”

“And that’s another thing. Why do you feel so real? For all I know, you’re not even dead.”

“Of course, I’m dead.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You feel very alive to me. And how is it that we can… do things?” asked Hermione embarrassed.

“I don’t know, but I like ‘doing things’ with you. Have you ever touched another painting?” asked Regulus.

“I’ve touched a pear in a still life at Hogwarts.”

“And how did that feel?”

“I don't know, Sort of like a pear, I guess.”

“See.”

“But I don’t believe portraits are like that. I would have read about it somewhere if they were,” said Hermione.

“Well, maybe no one else has felt up a painting,” said Regulus, smirking.

Hermione glared.

“Why don’t you do an experiment,” said Regulus. “Touch one of the other portraits here and see how they feel.”

“No way! You’re relatives are all sinister and creepy looking.”

“What about my great-great-grandfather, Phineas Nigellus Black? He was a Headmaster at Hogwarts.”

“I’m not groping a Headmaster!”

“I didn’t say you had to wank him. Just poke him in the arm or something. Or better yet kiss him. You’re good at that.” Regulus smirked.

“Absolutely not.”

“Then you’ll just have to trust me.”

“I think I’ll take my chances with the bookcase.” 

Hermione ate her lunch and drank her tea and spent the whole rest of the day searching the bookcases aimlessly for even one single book on Horcruxes. There were plenty of books on the Dark Arts, but nothing very useful, except perhaps for a book she found on revenge for one’s enemies, which she tucked away for a rainy day. A couple of the spells looked very promising indeed. Hermione was starting to get discouraged. She was running out of time. She sank down on the couch and buried her head in her hands. It was hopeless.

“Give up yet?” asked Regulus.

“Yes. I don’t think there is anything here,” said Hermione dejectedly.

“That’s because there isn’t. I must say, you were very thorough though.”

“What! You said you could help, and the whole time there was nothing here!”

“Yes, I did say I could help. And yes, there is nothing here.”

“You’re being the annoying acquaintance now, aren’t you?” asked Hermione exasperatedly.

“That I am. Ready to get friendly?” asked Regulus with an evil grin on his face.

“Yes. Crazily enough, I am,” replied Hermione, giving in.

“Good. Then let’s go back to my room.”

“Excuse me?” asked Hermione in shock.

“I’m taking you to my room,” repeated Regulus.

“There is no way I’m going to your room just so you can seduce me.” Hermione’s brain was about fried from looking through books all day, but she knew with out a doubt that going back to a strange man’s bedroom was a terrible idea. It was just about as bad as marrying Goyle or having sex with Crabbe. It was absolutely out of the question.

“So, you don’t want to find out about Horcruxes?”

“I’ll meet you there.” 

Hermione made a quick pit stop at the bathroom and freshened up a bit. Then tentatively, she stopped outside Harry and Ron’s bedroom. After pausing only a few minutes, she quietly opened the door and went in. A short while later, she came out with extremely pink cheeks and practically fled up the stairs to the third floor. Regulus was waiting for her in a portrait outside his bedroom door. He was smirking at her.

“So, did you poke him?”

“Yes,” breathed Hermione.

“And?”

“I couldn’t tell.”

“Oh,” said Regulus slightly disappointed.

“So, I kissed him,” said Hermione, clearly ashamed of herself.

“What!” said Regulus and then he started laughing and couldn’t stop. “You Frenched Phineas Nigellus Black? Ooh la fucking la!”

“I did not French kiss a Headmaster, let alone your great-great-grandfather. It was sort of a grandfatherly kiss. On the lips.”

Regulus started laughing even harder.

“I just wanted to know if it felt like yours,” said Hermione indignantly. 

“And did it?”

“No,” admitted Hermione, looking at her feet.

“Thank God. So, how did he take it?”

“Not well.”

“I bet.” Regulus laughed.

“He yelled at me and then deducted a thousand points from Gryffindor. He’s talking to Headmistress McGonagall now. I think I’ll have detention for all of seventh year if I decide to go back.”

“If?”

“Well, I may be busy, you know.” Hermione looked at the door that led to Regulus’s room. Hanging on the door was a sign that read ‘Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black.’

“Arcturus?” said Hermione questioningly. Somehow, that seemed important.

“You should talk, Her-mi-o-ne.”

“So, how do I get in? Mundungus Fletcher couldn’t even get in, and that’s saying something.”

“Those idiots. They didn’t stand a chance against my wards.”

“Just fucking tell me how to get in,” said Hermione impatiently.

“Eager, aren’t you?”

Hermione glared.

“All right. Keep your knickers on. Scratch that. Take them off if you want to. Just say, 'Gryffindor sucks.'”

“I’m not saying that!”

“You are if you want to get into my room.”

“Gryffindor sucks,” said Hermione, gritting her teeth.

“Now say, 'I’m here to shag Regulus.'”

Hermione glared again but obediently said, “I’m here to shag Regulus.”

“That’s good enough for me. Hermione Granger has permission to enter my room.”

“I didn’t really need to say those things, did I?”

“No. You just needed my permission to enter, but I greatly enjoyed hearing you say those things.”

“Well, I didn’t mean them,” said Hermione haughtily, turning the doorknob and entering his room. She felt a little smug about this. None of the other Order Members had been able to enter this room. It gave her an odd sense of satisfaction being the only one that could do it. Hermione looked around the room. It was exactly what she expected. The room was very grand with a large four-poster bed right in the center of the room with rich green velvet hangings and an expensive looking embroidered bed spread with silver threads running through it. There was a sumptuous Oriental carpet covering almost the entire floor with an intricate design that upon close inspection appeared to be hundreds of green serpents entwined together. The furniture was massive and made of dark mahogany, which was ornately carved and gave the room a majestic feel. On the ceiling of the room was a painting of the Black family crest. The room was rich. It was powerful. It was Regulus. And for some strange reason she was having an odd sense of deja vu. “So, are you going to give me what I came here for or what?” asked Hermione.

“You mean sex?” asked Regulus impishly.

“No, I don’t mean sex.”

“Oh, you mean the gift that I am going to give you in exchange for sex,” said Regulus slyly.

Hermione glared. “Is it a book?”

“Yeah, it’s a book. Because that’s so fucking romantic,” said Regulus sarcastically.

“What’s wrong with books? I like books. I want a book.”

“I want to get in your pants, not study with you,” replied Regulus.

“You really don’t know me very well, do you?” asked Hermione, smirking a bit.

“I was thinking of giving you something more valuable. And sparkly.”

“You have got to be kidding me! You dragged me up here to give me jewelry? What am I supposed to do with jewelry? I’d rather have a book. Something useful," said Hermione rudely.

“Well, it’s not just any jewelry. It’s very special.”

“Oh, are you going to ask me to go steady and give me your Slytherin ring?” asked Hermione sarcastically.

“No. I never got my hands on the ring,” muttered Regulus bitterly.

“What?”

“Never mind. I have something even better than a ring in mind, and believe it or not, I know you better than you think,” said Regulus, handing her the gift.

Hermione stared at his gift incredulously. “A tiara? You are giving me a fucking tiara?”

“A simple thank you would have been sufficient. Or a hand job maybe.”

“Why on earth would I want a fucking tiara? Where would I even wear that?”

“To the wedding of course. It will make you think of me.”

“I am not wearing a fucking tiara. And why would I want to think of you anyway?”

“It’s not a fucking tiara. It’s a fucking diadem,” retorted Regulus, starting to get annoyed. “And why wouldn’t you want to think about me?”

“Well, it looks like a tiara. What the fuck is a diadem?”

“It’s a tiara,” replied Regulus offhandedly.

“Ha! I knew it!”

“But it’s not just any old tiara. It’s Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem. Read the inscription.”

“Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure,” said Hermione thoughtfully. “This really once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw?”

“Yes. It’s supposed to bestow wisdom to whoever wears it. Go ahead. Try it on.”

Hermione couldn’t help herself. She would have never thought she would ever have the opportunity to wear something that belonged to one of Hogwarts’ Founders. She couldn’t not try it on. She carefully put it on her head. Then she looked over at Regulus skeptically. “I don’t feel wise at all. In fact, I feel rather stupid at the moment.”

“And you look rather stupid, too,” said Regulus, laughing.

“Ha ha.” Hermione looked at him suspiciously. “Regulus, how did you get a hold of Rowena Ravenclaw’s tiara?”

“Diadem,” he corrected. “I stole it,” he said proudly.

“You're giving me stolen goods!”

“Priceless stolen goods,” he corrected.

“You are unbelievable. Why would you even want something from Ravenclaw?”

“Don’t you want something from Ravenclaw?” asked Regulus pointedly.

“I don’t want anything from you, especially if it’s stolen.”

“And they call you the brightest witch of your age. These really are dark times if that’s the case.”

“Like you’re so smart.”

“I am smart.”

“A smart ass doesn’t count.”

“More than just my ass is smart. I should have been in Ravenclaw, but Sirius fucked it up for me by getting put in Gryffindor. Mum would have shit if neither of us got put in Slytherin, so I asked the Sorting Hat to put me in Slytherin, and it did.”

“You’re trying to tell me you don’t even belong in Slytherin? But you make such a good Slytherin asshole.”

“But I would have been a great Ravenclaw asshole,” said Regulus arrogantly.

“I can’t argue with that. So, is that why you stole the diadem? So you could have a piece of Ravenclaw?” asked Hermione.

“Actually, I stole it so I could have a piece of Voldemort,” said Regulus, looking her right in the eye.

Hermione stared back at him until something finally clicked. Dawning slowly spread over Hermione’s face, soon to be replaced with absolute horror. “I have fucking Voldemort on my head!” Hermione tried to take it off, but it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard she tugged on it. “Regulus!”

“Sticking charm.” Regulus grinned.

“Get this fucking tiara off my head right now!”

“It’s a diadem, and I’ll take it off when you get back from the wedding. I want you to wear it.”

“Oh my God. I am wearing fucking Voldemort on my head. Is this an active Horcrux?”

“Of course. I wanted to collect them all before I destroyed them.”

“How many do you have?”

“Four. I have Slytherin’s locket, Hufflepuff’s cup, Gryffindor's chamber pot and now you have Ravenclaw’s diadem,” said Regulus, smirking.

Hermione glared at the diadem comment, but then she said, “Gryffindor's chamber pot?” She hadn't heard about that one.

“Yes, it seems even Voldemort had to put up with Gryffindor shit,” said Regulus dryly.

Hermione couldn't help smiling. “That’s six! The diary and ring are already destroyed. We only have to worry about Nagini now! Do you know how to destroy the Horcruxes?”

“Yes, there is a book over there.”

“Good, I want to read it right away.”

“I thought you’d want to celebrate,” said Regulus, whining a bit.

“Later when I’m finished reading,” said Hermione distractedly, making herself comfortable on Regulus’s bed and pouring over the book in front of her.

Regulus sighed and settled for watching her read. She stayed up most of the night and finally fell asleep from pure exhaustion in the early hours of the morning with the book still in her hands. And that’s when she had the dream. She was kissing Regulus. His lips were so soft. There was really nothing else like it that she had ever experienced. It didn't feel wrong at all. In fact, snogging a painting felt like a perfectly normal thing to do. In fact, it felt better than normal. It felt good, really good, especially now that Regulus's soft lips were kissing her neck. She loved having her neck kissed. She had never felt so relaxed, so perfectly content. It was like she was floating on air. She just wanted to savor the moment. Savor every sensation she was feeling. His strong hands were caressing her body, removing her knickers and then... all there was was blackness. 

“Granger! Are you in there!” Malfoy shouted, pounding on the door. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Go away, Malfoy,” said Hermione groggily. “I'm busy.” She was so tired from staying up all night. She wasn't ready to get up and deal with Malfoy yet.

“It sounds like you’re recovering from being very busy. Now wake the fuck up. Did you forget we have a date today? I wish I fucking could,” grumbled Malfoy on the other side of the door.

Hermione sat up in Regulus's bed. “Oh, shit! What time is it?” And where were her knickers!

“It’s time to get the fuck up,” said Malfoy most unhelpfully.

Hermione stood up, feeling very disoriented. What the hell had happened last night? All she could remember was reading that book on Horcruxes.

Malfoy pounded on the door again.

She threw open the door to see Malfoy’s shocked face staring back at her. “What?”

“You fucked him, didn’t you?” asked Malfoy angrily.

“I did not!” 

“You did,” he accused.

“Just because I slept in his room doesn’t mean anything happened. I was just reading a book.”

“Did it give you an orgasm?”

“No, it wasn't really that kind of book,” said Hermione, looking at him strangely.

“How about hickeys? Did it give you a bunch of hickeys?” he asked coldly.

Suddenly remembering her dream, Hermione's hand flew up to her neck. Warily, she pulled down the neckline of her shirt and took a peek. “Regulus!”

Regulus smirked. “You said you’d celebrate later when you were finished reading.”

“I am going to a wedding!” 

Regulus shrugged. “Just use a spell.” 

“I don’t know any of those kind of spells!” 

“Well, I guess you’re fucked then,” said Regulus. 

“Again,” added Malfoy.

“Oh, God. Malfoy you’re a man whore. Tell me the spell to get rid of these things,” said Hermione desperately.

“Maybe I don’t know it,” said Malfoy.

Hermione gave him a look.

“Alright, I know it, but why should I help you?” asked Malfoy grudgingly.

“Because if you don’t, everyone at the wedding is going to think we’re having sex,” said Hermione close to hysterics.

“What do I care? I’m going as Viktor Krum. So, what if they think you fucked him. You have,” replied Malfoy.

“But they don’t know that!” cried Hermione. “This would kill Ron.”

“And you think that’s going to make me want to help you?” asked Malfoy.

“What do you want?” asked Hermione shrewdly.

“A favor,” replied Malfoy.

“What kind of favor?” asked Hermione.

“For me to know, and you to find out,” said Malfoy, smirking.

“No way. You already have the command. You don’t need any fucking favors,” said Hermione, starting to get angry. Greedy son of a bitch. 

“Fine don’t do me any favors!” yelled Malfoy.

“I won’t!” screamed Hermione.

“By the way, why the fuck are you wearing a fucking tiara?” asked Malfoy, suddenly staring at the top of her head.

“It’s a fucking diadem, Malfoy. And fucking Regulus gave it to me.”

“Holy shit, Granger. You must have been a really good lay to get jewelry like that.”

“In her dreams,” responded Regulus with a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! It took me 28 chapters, but I finally figured out what to do about those stupid Horcruxes. You have no idea how difficult it is to find a non-serious way of dealing with evil objects that contain pieces of ripped out soul that were created by killing people. I really don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote that first chapter!


	29. Victor Victorious

“I knew you fucked him!” accused Malfoy angrily.

“I did not, you idiot. He’s just messing with you. Tell him, Regulus,” said Hermione exasperatedly. She didn’t need this shit. Malfoy was awfully possessive for someone who didn’t ‘like’ her.

“Well, we didn’t exactly get that far,” admitted Regulus, “When she started snoring, it was kind of a buzz kill. Well, more like a buzz saw kill.”

Hermione glared at Regulus. “It was never going to get that far because ’we’ weren’t doing anything. I was sleeping.”

“And were you having pleasant dreams?” asked Regulus, smirking.

Hermione glared at him. That was beside the point. “What kind of son of a bitch goes around kissing girls while they’re sleeping anyway?” Hopefully, he hadn’t read any Muggle fairytales, or he’d be fancying himself sodding Prince Charming.

“A lucky one?” replied Regulus offhandedly.

“You are an immoral, depraved, sorry excuse for a painting,” Hermione declared angrily.

“Please, you were totally into it,” Regulus accused.

“I thought I was dreaming,” she said in self-defense.

“And here it was a dream come true,” quipped Regulus.

“Except she was probably dreaming about me,” Malfoy smirked. Conceited bastard.

“Not bloody likely,” said Regulus, glaring at Malfoy. Then they both turned on Hermione, who seemed to be looking a little uncomfortable.

“Who says it was either of you? Maybe I was dreaming about Goyle.” Shit. Why didn’t she say Viktor? Why did she always seem to forget about her boyfriend when there was a Slytherin around?

“Well, it doesn’t really matter which asshole you were dreaming of. I was the one who had the pleasure of pleasuring you, and I don’t expect too much in return. What can I say? I’m a giver,” said Regulus as though he really believed that load of crap.

“Yeah, you’re a fucking philanthropist,” said Hermione sarcastically.

“I prefer sex god but whatever,” replied Regulus nonchalantly.

“Speaking of that,” began Hermione.

“I knew you thought I was a sex god,” exclaimed Regulus. “And I was just getting started, too. Let’s kick this asshole out and have some fun.”

“What I meant to say,” said Hermione glaring at him, “or rather ask you about is, how the hell did you manage to give me all of these hickeys while I was sleeping in your bed?”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that. I was right. You are alive, aren’t you?” accused Hermione.

“That would be my fucking luck,“ said Malfoy under his breath.

Regulus sighed. “Unfortunately, I am not alive, not in the traditional sense anyway. Those were some pretty good moves for a dead guy though, don’t you think? It’s been twenty years, but I’ve still got it,” boasted Regulus.

“If you’re not alive then how did you do it?” asked Hermione skeptically, still managing to blush.

“Magic.” Regulus shrugged.

“Duh,” said Malfoy.

“Nice try. Paintings can’t do magic,” said Hermione.

“Correction. Most paintings can’t do magic. I’ve always been exceptional.”

“You seem just like a dumb old ordinary painting to me,” said Malfoy, glowering at him.

“More like extraordinary,” said Regulus with a smirk. “I happen to particularly excel at Levitation Spells. Let's just say, I can maneuver anything or anyone anywhere I want,” he said, winking at her.

“You levitated me!” Hermione gasped, suddenly realizing exactly how her dream really had come true.

“Well, it would have been weird if I levitated myself,” answered Regulus.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I don't know why you're so upset,” said Regulus. “Nothing really happened. Unfortunately.”

“Hickeys happened!”

“What's a few hickeys between friends?”

“I am going to a wedding! What am I supposed to tell people? That a painting did it? Everyone is going to think it was Malfoy, and that makes me positively sick!” screamed Hermione.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I would never do something like that to you because I don’t like you!” yelled Malfoy.

“So you say,” snapped Hermione.

“Excuse me, but I thought we were talking about me,” said Regulus, clearly bored with the turn in the conversation. “Who the fuck cares if that prick likes you or not? He’s an idiot.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s the dumb shit stuck in a painting?” asked Malfoy triumphantly.

Regulus glared at Malfoy but then shrugged. “It could be worse. I could be six feet underground.”

“So, what exactly happened?“ asked Hermione, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“The Dark Lord asked to borrow my house elf, and when I say asked, I mean commanded. No one ever refused the Dark Lord anything or anyone for that matter and lived to tell about it. So, I told Kreacher to go with the Dark Lord and then return to me when the Dark Lord was finished with him. The Dark Lord left Kreacher in that cave to die but because of my command, Kreacher returned to me, and that is how I found out about the Horcruxes.”

“Wait, the Dark Lord made Horcruxes. Holy shit!” exclaimed Malfoy.

“It figures you would know what they are. Listen, Malfoy, if you even fucking tell anyone about this, I will hex you in a place you won’t soon forget,” threatened Hermione.

“My hair!”

“That, too.”

“Oh,” said Malfoy, his eyes widening slightly.

Hermione turned to Regulus. “It was you. You hid the fake locket. You’re R.A.B.,” said Hermione, stating the obvious.

“Yes, that was part of my plan to bring down the Dark Lord. I figured he had probably made more than one Horcrux with how paranoid he was about death, although I was thinking he only made four, using relics from each of the Founders. I would have bet my life on it that the locket was the final Horcrux I needed to find. Well, I guess I kind of did. I fucking lost that bet. Anyway, after I found the cup, the diadem and the chamber pot, I told Kreacher to take me to the cave. I brought a replacement locket to keep him from being suspicious but added a little note inside for the Dark Lord in case he figured it out, kind of a final ‘fuck you’. When I saw what the potion was, I knew this particular Horcrux had a very high price to pay, a life. Kreacher had survived drinking the potion once because he was a house elf and not a wizard. The Dark Lord hadn’t taken that into consideration when making the potion, but there was no way he could survive it twice. I couldn’t send Kreacher to his death like that. I just couldn’t do it. He had taken care of me my whole life. So, I drank the potion in his place.”

“You sacrificed yourself for your house elf? That’s incredible, Regulus.”

“Oh God. Saving a fucking house elf? Give me a break. Now she really is going to fuck you. You might as well join S.P.E.W. and get your complimentary blow job,” said Malfoy sarcastically.

“Shut up, Malfoy. Just because you don’t know how to be self-sacrificing doesn’t mean no one else does.”

“I could be nice to a house elf for a screw, too,” said Malfoy indignantly.

“You can’t be bloody nice to anybody. You’re a Malfoy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re an asshole,” answered Regulus.

“What he said,” said Hermione. “Now shut up. Regulus is telling a story.”

“My body was dying from the potion I drank in the cave. I was running out of time. Kreacher Apparated me back to my room.” 

“So, that potion Professor Dumbledore drank in the cave would have killed him?” asked Hermione, the truth dawning. Snape wasn’t really a murderer after all. Professor Snape, she silently corrected herself.

“Yes, a slow painful death. It was some nasty shit,” said Regulus.

“That’s awful,” sympathized Hermione.

“Luckily, the Ravenclaw in me had been working on a brilliant idea inspired by Voldemort. Let’s just say, I put my heart and soul into this painting. Well, my soul anyway. I’m still a heartless bastard,” said Regulus with a wink.

“Oh my God. You’re a Horcrux!” said Hermione incredulously.

“In a way I guess I am, except my soul is complete. I didn’t have to rip it apart and become a monster like the Dark Lord.”

“No, you’re just a painting of one,” grumbled Malfoy. 

“Why would you put your soul into a painting?” Hermione asked Regulus, trying to understand what was going on.

“Yeah, who the fuck does that except creepy, crazy bastards?” asked Malfoy rhetorically.

“I was dying. It was the only way I could think of to become immortal,” said Regulus.

“You’re immortal!” exclaimed Hermione.

“Fucking shit,” said Malfoy.

“Well, no. Needless to say, the spell didn’t exactly work out the way it was supposed to,” admitted Regulus.

“Dumb ass,” said Malfoy smugly.

Regulus chose to ignore Malfoy and his utterly inane comments. “I had hoped my clever plan would grant me immortality, but I am forever connected to this painting.”

“But if your soul is complete, you’re not really dead. You can just find another body or create one like Voldemort did.”

“Unfortunately, that is not how the spell works. When my body died, instead of my soul going to heaven or more than likely hell, my soul went into this painting. The magic is woven into the paint and canvas. The process is irreversible. I am just a painting now. A really fucking hot painting but nothing more.”

“That is so sad,” said Hermione sincerely.

“It’s a fucking shame,” said Malfoy insincerely.

“That was so brave of you. Sacrificing yourself like that. You know, you could have been a Gryffindor as well.”

“Please,” said Malfoy nastily. “Why don’t you just fuck him now and get the scepter to match your stupid fucking crown.”

“It’s a diadem,” said Hermione and Regulus at the same time and then they smiled at each other.

“I am going to fucking throw up,” said Malfoy, looking at the two of them in disgust. 

“So, Regulus. Does this mean that we’re on the same side now?” asked Hermione.

“If I say I’m on your side, is that going to get me laid?” he asked.

“No,” said Hermione adamantly.

“Then I will have to think about it,” replied Regulus.

“But I thought you wanted to bring about the downfall of Voldemort,” said Hermione.

“I just thought I might get something out of it. I mean what are four pieces of Voldemort’s soul worth to you?” asked Regulus shrewdly.

“Forget what I said before,” huffed Hermione. “You are a Slytherin through and through.”

“Now why do I get the feeling you don’t mean that as a compliment?” asked Regulus, smirking.

“Because Slytherins suck,” said Hermione angrily.

Regulus started laughing. “Apparently, we do. Oh, and by the way, that Horcrux may affect your judgment slightly.”

“What!” exclaimed Hermione.

“Well, you are wearing a crazy bastard on your head. What do you expect?” asked Regulus.

“I don’t know. Am I going to go about killing people?” asked Hermione horrified.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Knowing you, you’ll probably go about shagging people.”

“Fuck off, Regulus.”

“I’m trying,” said Regulus.

“Is that why you made me try on the diadem in the first place? You thought it would make me want to have sex with you?”

“Just a theory.” Regulus shrugged.

“Well, it’s a shit theory, if you ask me,” scoffed Hermione.

“We’ll see. Just remember, abstinence makes the heart grow fonder,” said Regulus laughing.

“It’s absence, you dumb ass,” retorted Hermione.

“That too. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Don’t we have a wedding to go to?” asked Malfoy pointedly.

“Oh shit, I still have to take a shower!”

At exactly 10:37 am, Hermione met Malfoy in front of the fireplace in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place wearing a turtleneck and a rather lumpy hat she had transfigured out of a washcloth. He of course had a scowl on his face, but he had a bag in his hand and looked resigned to go. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and let go of the wand in her pocket. She had been more than a bit worried that he would try to back out, and she would have to force his cooperation. In fact, she had even come up with a few ideas for “persuading” Malfoy, none of them unforgivable of course because she admittedly was a bit of a goody goody, but they were kind of borderline. 

“Aren’t you looking even frumpier than normal,” said Malfoy sarcastically.

“Shut up, Malfoy and drink the fucking potion.”

Hermione held out the vial of potion and handed it to Malfoy. She then pulled out the locket that was hidden under her shirt and carefully picked out a few strands of Viktor’s hair. As she dropped in the hairs, it bubbled up and turned a murky shade of brown. Then Hermione took the vial from Malfoy and dumped it into a Moody-like flask that she pulled from her pocket.

“Okay. This should be enough potion to keep you disguised as Viktor until we get back here tomorrow. You must remember to drink the potion every hour to keep up appearances. However, you don’t need to really worry about that because I will be keeping a close eye on you, and I will remind you.”

“I’m sure you will,” replied Malfoy dryly.

“So anyway, it’s really important that you remember to pretend to be Viktor. We don’t want anyone to suspect who you really are, especially Harry and Ron. I don’t want you ruining the wedding. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how much they hate you. There would be mass chaos if they figured out that I brought their worst enemy, besides Voldemort of course, to the wedding as my “date.” And I do use that term loosely. Just talk about Quidditch. Harry and Ron love talking about Quidditch,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes. Hermione hated talking about Quidditch. It was so boring and that’s all Harry, Ron and Viktor, for that matter, talked about. Stupid Quidditch. 

“You mean I have to talk to Pothead and Weasel? “ asked Malfoy in disgust. “Why don’t you just use the Cruciatus now?”

“You don’t have to talk to anyone. I don’t care what you fucking do as long as you stay in character. Viktor’s not that much of a talker anyway,” said Hermione, slightly blushing. “And Harry’s probably the only one who will even attempt a conversation with you. Ron doesn’t like Viktor very much.” Hermione blushed even deeper at that.

Malfoy smirked as he noticed Hermione blushing. “For a bookworm, you sure do get a lot of action.”

“Shut up Malfoy and stop that smirking, it’s a dead giveaway,” retorted Hermione. Malfoy scowled at her. “That’s better. Viktor scowls quite a lot actually. Oh, by the way you need to call me Herm-own-ninny.”

“What? Her-old-biddy?” said Malfoy.

“I said to call me Herm-own-ninny!”

“I’m not calling you that.”

“It’s what Viktor calls me.”

“It sounds stupid.”

“It does not.”

“It does, too. Why do you even want to be called a ninny?”

“I don’t want to be called a ninny. It’s how he pronounces my name!”

“Well, he’s an idiot.”

“He’s Bulgarian!”

“You said it, not me.”

“No,” said Hermione exasperatedly. “I just meant that English isn’t his native language.”

“You called your boyfriend an idiot.”

“You called him that.”

“Well, then what’s the problem? We’re in agreement. Viktor Krum is an idiot.”

“He is not. He is incredibly smart. He was in the Triwizard Tournament, wasn’t he?”

“So was Potter, that ditzy French chick and a fucking Hufflepuff. That doesn’t really impress me.”

“Just call me fucking Herm-own-ninny!”

“No. I’d sooner call you a Mudblood.”

Hermione scowled angrily at him in frustration and then pointed her wand at his face and murmured something he couldn’t hear. 

“What was that for?” he asked trying to hide his nervousness. 

“Oh, just a little something I picked up over the summer that will probably come in handy. Okay, drink up. We really need to get going.”

Malfoy tentatively took a drink of potion and immediately started gagging. It tasted like rotten eggs and dirty socks. His skin started bubbling and his hair shortened and darkened. His shoulders broadened and in a matter of seconds, Hermione was staring at Viktor Krum, her boyfriend of the past three years. 

“Vot the hell are you looking at? I’m still not fucking you,” said Malfoy in Viktor’s Bulgarian accent.

Hermione gritted her teeth and said, “Let’s go. Ferrets first.”

Malfoy glared at her but stepped into the fireplace and said, “The Burrow” making a rude face as he said it. Green flames shot up, and he disappeared.

“I can do this,” said Hermione giving herself a little pep talk. “I am an Order member, and I can totally handle Draco fucking Malfoy. I am smarter, better prepared, more determined. Did I say smarter? And I have a wand. Malfoy doesn’t stand a chance.” Hermione smiled, threw the Floo powder down and said, “The Burrow.”

As Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, she looked around the cozy kitchen. She loved the cluttered randomness of the Burrow. The disorder was quite charming and surprisingly homey despite the fact that it was quite unlike her own very organized very color coordinated home. She then noticed “Viktor” scowling at Harry and Ron. He’d only been there for a minute or so, for goodness sake. It was weird seeing Viktor again even though it was really Malfoy. She hadn’t seen him in a while, and he was supposed to be her real date for the wedding. Her and Viktor’s relationship was a little tenuous. With him in Bulgaria and being a world famous Quidditch player and with her being friends with Harry Potter and fighting Voldemort, it was difficult to find time together. They really had very little in common, but he was very passionate and levelheaded Hermione found that positively thrilling. Hermione found herself staring at Malfoy and was slightly startled when he walked over to her and whispered in her ear, “Stop lusting after me.”

Hermione swallowed hard and tried to regain her composure. That was quite embarrassing. She turned to Harry and Ron and gave them each a big hug. She had really missed them. Ron held her just a tad longer than normal. Malfoy raised his eyebrows at that.

“I’ve missed you guys so much. How has your summer been?” asked Hermione.

“Horrible,” said Harry. “The Dursleys are still the Dursleys. At least this is my last summer with them. How about you, Hermione? What have you been up to?”

“I... um, well, I’ve been babysitting a little,” she said, glancing at Malfoy. He snorted.

Ron caught the exchange and took it to mean that Krum was shagging Hermione. He glared at Malfoy, who he thought was Krum, and said, “Probably some brat, huh?”

Hermione laughed and said, “You don’t know the half of it.” This time, Malfoy glared.

“Mum and Fleur have been driving me crazy with all of this wedding business,” said Ron. “You wouldn’t believe all of the stuff you have to do to get ready for a wedding. I’m so sick of hearing about flowers, dresses, place settings and all of that other girl stuff. I’ll be glad when this is all over. You better go find Fleur. She’s in a bit of a snit that you’re late. Seems to think it will take all day to get you ready for the wedding. Nobody really cares about you Krum since you’re just Hermione’s guest and all.”

“Ron! That’s rather rude,” exclaimed Hermione. She didn’t like him insulting her date even if it was only Malfoy.

“Sorry,” grumbled Ron. “I’ll show Viktor which room he'll be staying in. Hermione, you’re supposed to go to Ginny’s room. All of the girls are changing there.”

“Thanks Ron,” said Hermione. Before he left with Ron, she pulled Malfoy to the side and whispered in his ear, “Be good.”

“I vill if he vill,” replied Malfoy. 

Hermione cringed. There wasn’t a chance in hell of that. “Just remember you’re Viktor Krum.”

“And you remember that I’m not. I saw how you vere looking at me before. Like you vanted to eat me up,” whispered Malfoy, starting to smirk. Malfoy looked over at Ron who was glowering at them. He leaned in even closer so that his lips were almost touching her ear, and it tickled when he whispered, “I bet your eyes von’t be on Veasel’s scrawny ass.” Then he did something quite unexpected. He kissed her on the cheek and then he walked off with a sulking Ron. She hated it when Malfoy was right. Fucking ass.

After chatting with Harry a bit, Hermione was on her way to Ginny’s room thinking about that little kiss on the cheek when she was suddenly accosted from behind and kissed quite thoroughly. After kissing back a little too enthusiastically, Hermione finally pulled away (mostly because she was running out of air) and slapped him hard across the face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” asked Hermione, glaring angrily at Malfoy.

“Kissing my girlfriend,” he said, rubbing his cheek which now had Hermione’s hand print on it.

“Listen here, just because you’re pretending to be my fucking boyfriend doesn’t give you the right to molest me in the middle of the hallway. Ron’s not even here to witness this little random act of snogging.”

“Fine. The hallway is no good then. Can I molest you in this room?” he asked roguishly, pointing at the door behind her and then pushing her up against it, kissing her lips possessively and pressing his body against hers.

Hermione lost her train of thought. She had been trying to make some kind of point, but now all she could think about was how good it felt to have his lips on hers. Oh God. Malfoy was totally snogging her in the middle of the Weasley’s hallway. This was so bad. And so fucking hot. She was really starting to get turned on. “Oh, Malfoy,” she moaned as his hand started sliding up her skirt.

“Vot is a Malfoy?”

Hermione glared at him. She was getting really sick and tired of him making fun of Viktor. “A Malfoy is another word for asshole,” she said, pushing him off of her.

“Is this having to do vith that horrible Vitch Veekly article? I swear Herm-own-ninny, I am not having intercourse vith all of these vomen as they say. I love you Herm-own-ninny.”

Herm-own-ninny? Oh shit. She forgot to uninvite Viktor to the wedding. She grabbed him by the robes and quickly pulled him into Percy’s room before anyone could see him and ruin all of her plans. Luckily, Percy was nowhere to be seen.

“Now, this is more like it,” said Viktor, walking her backwards while kissing her. She was totally consumed by his kisses and before she knew what was happening he had backed her into the bed, was knocking her onto it and was crawling on top of her. His kisses were as passionate as he was, and she wondered how she could have ever mistaken him for Malfoy. He started moving from her mouth to her neck, and he was about to pull down her turtleneck for better access when she completely panicked.

“Not there!” Oh God. Viktor would completely shit if he saw all of those hickeys on her neck and shoulders. He would probably kill poor Ron.

Viktor raised his eyebrows but didn’t seem daunted by her outburst. He raised her shirt slowly dragging his hands over her bare skin making her body tingle all over “It has been a vhile since ve have made love. Ve must reacquaint ourselves, shall ve? I do not remember you not liking your neck to be kissed. It is a great pity but surely I can find other places that vould please you. How about here?” he asked bending down and kissing the valley between her breasts. “Or how about here,” he said trailing kisses down her stomach. Then he looked up into her eyes wickedly and said, “No, no. I know just the place.” Things went south from there. Viktor didn’t waste any time. He got right down to business and was soon doing very naughty things to her in Percy Weasley’s bed. If she had liked Percy Weasley at all, she may have felt bad about where Viktor Krum was kissing her at the moment but as she did not, she thoroughly enjoyed a very warm welcome from her very talented boyfriend. Hermione was feeling very satisfied indeed and was lying there most content with Viktor’s head in her lap when there was suddenly a violent banging on the door.

“Krum get your ass out here,” yelled Ron through the door. “Mum needs your help. Bill and Fleur are releasing snitches at the end of their wedding and Fred and George thought it would be funny to do it early. They’re zooming all over the garden.”

“Vot is it you are needing me to do?” asked Viktor.

“Are you the world’s greatest seeker, or what? Catch the fucking snitches!” said Ron angrily.

“I am busy at the moment,” replied Viktor, his hand rubbing tantalizing circles on Hermione’s thigh.

“Doing Hermione doesn’t count,” returned Ron.

”Ronald Weasley!” exclaimed Hermione.

“Sorry Hermione, but Mum said she really needed Krum. Fleur’s having a melt down, and Harry is nowhere to be found,” said Ron, appealing to Hermione’s good nature.

“You should really go,” said Hermione to Viktor. “I’ll wait for you. You really are the best Seeker in the world. I’m sure you’ll catch all of those snitches really fast and when you get back here maybe I’ll be fast too,” she said, giving him a flirtatious wink. Viktor gave her a kiss to remember him by and walked over to the door. He quickly threw it open causing Ron, who had been pressed up against it listening, to tumble onto the floor. 

“Bloody hell,” exclaimed Ron. He picked himself up off the floor and started walking over toward Hermione, but Viktor grabbed onto his sleeve.

“Oh no, you don’t. You fly, you help,” said Viktor, dragging him away.

Hermione lay back in bed thinking about how lucky she was to have Viktor. She felt completely relaxed lying in Percy Weasley’s bed even without her knickers on. However, the euphoria didn’t last long and the guilt started settling in. She thought about what Viktor had said about the Witch Weekly article. She felt so stupid now and completely awful. Of course, she had read the stupid article and believed every word of it. About all the partying and all the witches he had slept with. And that night, she had hooked up with Goyle. She was a completely horrible person. At first, she vowed to tell him the truth, but after she thought about it for a while, she came to the conclusion that the truth was really rather overrated. The best thing to do would be to make it up to him. And never ever take another drink again.

About ten minutes later, Viktor came back in the room with a scowl on his face. 

“That was fast,” said Hermione impressed. They didn’t call her boyfriend the best Quidditch player in the world for nothing.

“I don’t know how you can be friends vith that red headed oaf.”

Hermione giggled. “You always say that.”

“He von’t leave me alone. I’ve been trying to hide from him this whole fucking time.”

“Didn’t you help him catch the snitches?”

“No, vhy vould I do that? I think he released those fucking snitches himself just to keep me busy so I vouldn’t be anywhere near you. He can’t stand the thought of us shagging.”

“That’s ridiculous. Ron wouldn’t do something like that,” said Hermione.

“Yes, he fucking vould. He’s in love vith you.”

“Well, if he is, he doesn’t know it,” replied Hermione sarcastically. “Besides he knows I have a boyfriend.”

“Does he know vhat you do vith your boyfriend,” said Viktor wickedly.

“No, he most certainly does not! And you are not telling him,” said Hermione poking him in the chest playfully.

“And vhy vouldn’t I?”

Hermione grabbed him by the robes catching him by surprise and pulled him in close so that they were eye to eye. “Because then I wouldn’t do this,” said Hermione, starting to kiss his neck and unbutton his robes.

“Vhat are you doing?”

“Oh, is that the wrong place?” asked Hermione innocently. “How about here?” asked Hermione, trailing kisses down his stomach and eliciting a groan from him. “No, no. That’s not it either,” said Hermione, smiling up at him wickedly from her knees. “I know just the place.”

His eyes widened in shock. “Are you going to do vhat I think you are going to do?”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t do you any favors?” asked Hermione.

“No. I really didn’t, especially not this kind,” he said, swallowing.

“Well, then you were wrong,” said Hermione rather saucily.

He was never so happy to be wrong in his life, and he didn’t say another word. He let Hermione’s mouth do all the ‘talking’ for once and he found he was enjoying it immensely. In fact, he was rather speechless about the whole situation that is until he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Fuck Granger! Holy shit! Vhere the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

Hermione’s head snapped up, and she swallowed hard. “Malfoy? Malfoy!”

“Coming, but I guess you already knew that,” said Malfoy, smiling wickedly down at her.


	30. Perverse Puns

“Oh my God,” said Hermione, clearly in shock. And why wouldn’t she be? She just gave Draco Malfoy a frigging blow job. She was going to be sick. Without thinking, she quickly reached for the pillow and started wiping her mouth and tongue on it. Then she realized it was Percy Weasley’s pillow and started gagging. Was it wrong that she was more disgusted by Percy’s drool than by Malfoy’s evil seed?

“Vhen I came in here I vas expecting you to blow me off but not quite like this,” said Malfoy, looking and talking just like Viktor but smirking like a son of a bitch.

“Oh my God.” She just had oral sex with Malfoy. With fucking Malfoy. And he was smirking about it. Asshole.

“I knew you really vanted me to come to this stupid vedding vith you, but I vould have never guessed you vould be down on your knees begging me to cum,” said Malfoy, zipping up his pants.

“Oh my God.” Why was she still on her knees? Hermione quickly got up and backed away from him almost tripping over herself in her haste.

“This whole thing is really hard to swallow though. Vell, maybe not for you,” continued Malfoy, thinking he was oh so clever.

“Oh my God.” She had swallowed. Maybe she should have spit. 

“So, I guess Gryffindors really do suck. And swallow,” he added, laughing. At her.

“Oh my God.” She definitely should have spit. In his fucking face!

“Who knew that big mouth of yours really vas good for something,” said Malfoy, pushing his luck.

“Oh my God.” He thought this was funny. He thought this was one big fucking joke. She should have shagged him. It would have been less humiliating.

“And I never vould have guessed that your mouthing off vould one day get me off,” said Malfoy, going just a little bit too far.

“Oh my God.” He wasn’t going to stop talking about this. Ever. And did she really just wish she had had sex with that ferret?

“I figured you’d get Head this year, Granger, but I didn’t know you’d be giving it,” said Malfoy, completely crossing the line and pissing all over it. 

“Oh, My. God.” That was the last straw. He was making fucking puns and perverted ones at that about Head girl. That was completely uncalled for. Unforgivable really. In fact, it really made her want to do the Unforgivable, and it didn’t matter which one. Hermione pointed her wand at his throat. “Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Blow me. Oops! You already have!” Malfoy laughed.

Hermione pointed her wand slightly lower. “I swear, Malfoy, if you make one more fucking pun or say one more stupid thing, I am going to take care of this little problem permanently.

“Oh, come on, Granger. Put your vand down. You don’t see mine up anymore, do you?” said Malfoy, unable to stop laughing now. He was completely out of control. 

Hermione gave up and sat down on the bed glaring at him. “You’re a fucking prick, Malfoy. That’s really low pretending to be Viktor just so I would, so I would… Well, you know!”

“This vas your fucking idea. Do you really think I vant to look and talk like this? I feel like an idiot.”

“You are an idiot!”

“An idiot who just got a blow job,” replied Malfoy rather smugly.

“Stop reminding me. It was a mistake. A dreadful, horrible, repulsive mistake. And it wasn’t meant for you.”

“Yeah right. You’ve been trying to get in my pants since you started this ‘babysitting’ job. Apparently you’ve had other ‘jobs’ in mind all along,” said Malfoy, smirking.

“You tricked me. You took advantage of me,” protested Hermione, getting angry.

“No. You took advantage of me. You had your evil vay vith me and now I feel dirty.”

“Is that a Mudblood joke?” asked Hermione, completely livid.

“No, but that vould have been a good one. I’m still on the blow job jokes though.”

“I don’t know what you think is so funny,” huffed Hermione, crossing her arms.

“It’s funny because it’s so unexpected. Who vould have ever thought you vould do something like that to me or anyone for that matter? Of course, I guess it shouldn’t really come as such a surprise. You always vere a suck up.”

“You are disgusting.” 

“I don’t think you’re one to talk. I only had a cup of tea for breakfast. What did you have?”

“You should have stopped me,” said Hermione, glaring at him.

“I was a little distracted, vhat with you blowing my… mind and all.”

“It wasn’t your mind, I was supposed to be blowing, you idiot. I thought you were Viktor.”

“Vhatever. Do really expect me to believe that you forgot it vas me? You brewed the fucking Polyjuice for Merlin’s sake.”

“I didn’t forget. I got mixed up. I thought you were the real Viktor.”

“And vhy vould you think that?”

“Because he was here not fifteen minutes ago.”

“Krum’s here?”

“Yes. Apparently I forgot to uninvite him,” said Hermione under her breath.

“You vhat!”

“I forgot to uninvite him, alright! I know it was really stupid, but I’ve been a little busy lately.”

“Yeah, getting busy.”

“Shut up.”

“Vhere is he?” asked Malfoy.

“I sent him off to look for snitches with Ron.”

“Vhy vould you do that? Did you vant to ruin your stupid plan? Someone could haff seen us together and figured it out. He could haff seen me. I could have been killed.”

“I don’t know why I did it. Ron needed help, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. Viktor had just… um well… oh God… he uh… I just wasn’t thinking clearly, alright!”

“Oh, I get it,” said Malfoy narrowing his eyes. “You vere just returning the favor vhen I valked in.”

“Something like that,” mumbled Hermione, completely embarrassed. “I certainly wasn’t planning on doing you any fucking favors.”

“Too late for that. Vell, you have to get rid of him.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t care. Break up vith him. He von’t vant to stick around here if you dump his sorry ass.”

“I don’t want to break up with him. It will be awkward,” said Hermione, looking horrified at the thought.

“You don’t vant to break up with him because it vill be awkward or because you’re in love vith him? Because not breaking up vith him just because it would be awkward is completely stupid.”

“Of course I am… in love with him,“ said Hermione, stumbling over the words.

“You are not. You could hardly even say it,” said Malfoy, almost smiling.

“Oh what do you know, Malfoy? I’m not breaking up with Viktor just because it will make it easier for you. We can hide you up in the attic with the ghoul.”

“I’m not hiding in some dirty attic with a ghoul. Forget it. You break up vith him and get him the fuck out of here, or I’m telling Veasel. Fuck I can’t even say fucking Veasel anymore,” said Malfoy, getting really frustrated.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Vouldn’t I?”

“He wouldn’t believe you,” said Hermione with certainty.

“But vould he believe you? You’re a shit liar, and you know it.”

“Fuck. I hate you, Malfoy.”

“Herm-own-ninny,” called Viktor through the door. “I is back from catching snitches.” 

“Oh shit. You have to hide, Malfoy,” whispered Hermione panicking. “Just a minute, Viktor,” she called.

“I’m not hiding. Just Obliviate him,” whispered Malfoy back.

“I’m not Obliviating my boyfriend. Get under the fucking bed.”

“No.” 

“Scared of monsters, Malfoy?” asked Hermione sarcastically.

“No, dust bunnies.”

“You’re scared of dust bunnies? You’re such a wuss.”

“I’m not a vuss. I’m just clean.”

“Well, I’m sure there aren’t any dust bunnies. Percy is a complete neat freak, a freak in general really.”

“No,” said Malfoy adamantly.

“Herm-own-ninny! Vat is taking so long?” asked Viktor.

“Get under the fucking bed!” whispered Hermione rather too loudly.

“No! Vhy don’t you…”

“Petrificus Totalus,” said Hermione, taking control of the situation. Malfoy keeled over, and she quickly started shoving him under the bed. He was heavier than he looked and unfortunately, he had been pointing at her when she froze him. His arm was stuck up in the air most inconveniently and would not go under the bed with the rest of him no matter how hard she tried. Shit. She attempted covering up his arm with the bedspread, but it stuck up funny and looked too noticeable. She didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to it, so she did the only thing she could think of. She sat on it. Sans knickers. Holy shit. “Alohamora,” said Hermione, pointing her wand at the door and trying with some difficulty to look casual sitting on the bed as though she didn’t really have Malfoy’s finger up her… skirt. “Come in, Viktor.”

“Vat is going on. Vat vere you doing?” asked Viktor.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably and then quickly decided that was a very bad idea and stopped. “I was straightening up and what not. Sorry it took so long, but you know how Percy is.”

“Percy,” said Viktor thinking. “He vas prick at school. Yes?”

“Yes. Yes he was.”

“He vas in charge of other students.”

“Oh prefect. Yes, that too,” said Hermione distractedly.

Viktor nodded as though he remembered him and then asked, ”So, vhere vere ve before ve vere so rudely interrupted?” 

He leaned in for a kiss, but Hermione artfully dodged him by leaning away and asking a question. She could not kiss him in good conscience knowing where her mouth had been.

“So, did you catch all of the snitches?” asked Hermione with the most interest she had ever shown in Quidditch.

“Yes, of course. I is not vorld class Quidditch player for nothing. Do I get a revard for my efforts?” asked Viktor very seductively.

“What kind of reward were you thinking of?” asked Hermione nervously. “I’m sure Mrs. Weasley and Fleur are very grateful for your help.”

“Perhaps just you could express your appreciation, Herm-own-ninny.”

“Oh, of course. Great job, Viktor,” said Hermione, patting him on the back. “Well done.”

Viktor raised his eyebrows. “I caught a hundred snitches in twenty minutes, and you pat me on the back? I am thinking of something else,” said Viktor, looking like he was about to lean in again.

Hermione held up her hand to stop him and said, “High Five,” rather lamely.

Viktor shook his head. “I have other things in mind,” he said, his hand roaming up her leg.

Hermione locked her knees together and sincerely hoped that Viktor’s hand wouldn’t meet Malfoy’s in the middle. However, the thought of them holding hands under her skirt was enough to make her smile. Viktor took this as a sign of encouragement and gently brushed his lips against hers. For a moment, Hermione almost forgot herself and kissed him back but then she quickly clamped her mouth shut. It was bad enough that she had tasted Malfoy; Viktor didn’t need to too. Hermione pushed him away. “Maybe later. I really need to find Fleur and get ready for the wedding.” Oh shit. She was supposed to break up with him. Maybe she should have kissed him. That would have done it for sure, and she wouldn’t have even had to say anything. However, the awkwardness would have still been there.

“Ve have plenty of time until the vedding,” said Viktor, nibbling on her ear and sliding his hand up her shirt. “I vant you now.”

Dear God. Between Viktor’s mouth and hands and Malfoy’s finger, Hermione was having a difficult time concentrating on what she needed to do. What was it she was supposed to do? Oh yeah. “Witch Weekly.”

“Vat?” asked Viktor, stopping in his confusion and allowing Hermione to clear her head.

“Before things go any further, I think we really need to discuss the Witch Weekly article. Maybe after the wedding, we can sit down and talk about it. Until then, I just don’t feel comfortable with this.”

“Ve talk about it now.”

“Now? Oh, well I really don’t think…”

“It is rubbish. I already told you that I is not sleeping vith all of those vomen. I sleep with two maybe three.”

“Well, of course you didn’t… Wait. Did you just say you slept with two women?”

“Maybe three.”

“Three!” exclaimed Hermione.

“I turned down many more,” said Viktor, thinking he was actually helping his case.

“How considerate of you,” said Hermione sarcastically.

“Of course, I do that for you Herm-own-ninny.”

“And did you sleep with these women more than once?” asked Hermione, already knowing the answer.

“Vell, I is traveling a lot. I have needs.”

“Don’t we all,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

“You are the only vitch I is telling that I love.”

“Probably, because I am the only one who required it.”

“Yes, being an international Quidditch player is enough for most vitches.”

“Of course. How silly of me.”

“I thought ve had an agreement.”

“Yes, I remember,” said Hermione. “I just thought…I don’t know. I guess I didn’t really know you meant it until I read that Witch Weekly article.”

“That trash. They should mind their own business. I am sorry it is upsetting for you. It is lucky you did not do anything drastic vhen you read such a thing.”

“Um about that.”

“I sorry you is shedding tears over it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I was shedding tears necessarily. It was more like clothing.”

“Pardon me?”

“I shagged Goyle.”

“You vat?”

“That night I read the Witch Weekly article, I went out and met some… acquaintances. I drank too much, stripped off all of my clothes and shagged the one bloke that didn’t pass out completely senseless.”

“That is unacceptable.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are Viktor Krum’s girlfriend. You can’t have sex vith strange men.”

“How about strange paintings?”

“Ve are breaking up.”

“What!”

“You had sex vith someone else. Is unacceptable.”

“Agreement! We had an agreement!”

“I cannot have a girlfriend who is so loose in her ways. Ve are broken up,” proclaimed Viktor, walking out the door and slamming it.

“But I was breaking up with you!” yelled Hermione to the already closed door. Hermione pointed her wand between her legs and said, “Finite,” and then lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Malfoy crawled out from under the bed, wiped his finger on his robes and lay down on his back next to her.

“Vell, that vent rather vell.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“I don’t know vhy you vould vant to date someone who couldn’t say their “w”s anyvay. It’s fucking annoying.”

“Yes, it vas,” said Hermione, letting out a little laugh.

“Did you love him?”

“No, but I thought he loved me.”

“Granger, for a smart vitch you really are naive. A bloke vill tell you anything to get into your pants.”

“You didn’t.”

“Vell, I didn’t have to. You got into mine first,” said Malfoy, smirking.

Hermione hit him on the shoulder. “I meant earlier when you were telling me that load of crap, and you thought I was going to shag you, which I wasn’t by the way. You told me the truth before anything happened.”

“Vell, I’m not a complete cad.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

“Or because I don’t like you and think you’re a bitch. Better?”

“Why didn’t you stop me this time then?”

“You vere very persuasive.”

“Fuck. I can’t believe I did that with you. You don’t even like me,” said Hermione.

“I have to say I’m liking you more,” said Malfoy, grinning.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

“No really. Viktor doesn’t even know vhat he’s missing. Or does he?” asked Malfoy, turning jealous.

“That’s none of your business. God, I’m glad Viktor didn’t find out about that mistake. I can’t believe he called me loose.”

“Vell, you did have sex vith Goyle.”

“So. Viktor had sex with lots of women lots of times.”

“But he plays Quidditch.”

“What the fuck does Quidditch have to do with anything!”

“Quidditch has to do with everything.”

“I hate Quidditch! I think that all Quidditch players are assholes who just like to play with their balls and broomsticks.” 

“I play Quidditch.”

“Precisely!”

“Vell, I hate Spew and some people might think the founder of it is a nosy bitch who goes about loosely shagging Goyle and frigging paintings and then goes about giving talented Quidditch players who don’t even like her blow jobs. So there!”

“It’s S.P.E.W.; you suck at Quidditch, and I am not loose!” 

“I don’t suck; you do. Literally!”

“Fine! I do suck. Are you happy? I suck. This day sucks. My fucking life sucks. You don’t like me, and Viktor certainly doesn’t like me. And I really don’t care anymore. I really couldn’t give a fuck. I am going to put on my ugly bridesmaid dress, sit through a long fucking wedding ceremony and listen to a load of crap about love. Then I am going to beat the shit out of the Weasley twins, get my naked pictures back and go back to Grimmauld Place, so I can have even more fun babysitting your sorry ass.”

“Cheer up, Granger. Don’t be so down on yourself. I think you’re special. In fact, sometimes you really blow me away,” said Malfoy, starting to laugh uncontrollably again.

Hermione shoved him off the bed knocking him flat on his ass and said angrily, “Just remember that before I got you off, I turned you on. Think about that, you fucking shit!”


	31. Girl Gab

Hermione glared at Malfoy and then stormed out of the room. She didn’t bother waiting for a reply as she suspected he didn’t have one. The moment she got into the hallway though, she was assaulted by a mass of red hair. 

“Thank goodness you’re here, Hermione. Phlegm is driving me crazy!”

“Well, hello to you, too, Ginny,” said Hermione, prying the girl off of her.

“God, Hermione. You look like shit,” said Ginny, eyeing Hermione up and down critically. “What’s with the frumpy turtleneck and dumpy hat?”

”It’s not that bad,” grumbled Hermione, self-consciously touching her hat. She should see her fucking tiara.

“It’s absolutely horrid, but I guess it doesn’t matter, you’ll have to change anyway. We have our lovely bridesmaid dresses to wear after all,” said Ginny sarcastically.

“Speaking of getting ready, is my trunk in your room? I need my toothbrush.”

“Why? Did you just come back from giving Viktor a blow job or something?” asked Ginny jokingly. Then she took one look at Hermione’s red face and burst out laughing. “You dirty little bitch!”

“Shut up, Ginny. I did not do ‘that’ with Viktor,” protested Hermione. Unfortunately, she had done ‘that’ with Malfoy. “I just threw up a little in my mouth is all.”

“You can’t even say blow job, can you?” accused Ginny exasperatedly. “Honestly Hermione, I don’t know how you can be such a prude when you’re not even a virgin anymore.”

“Ginny! Be quiet! Ron and Harry might hear you,” exclaimed Hermione, quickly looking around to make sure they were alone and then pulling Ginny roughly into the bathroom with her.

“It’s not like they won’t figure it out with Viktor here, and him spending the night no less. Even Ron’s not that dense,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” grumbled Hermione, closing the door. Ron was most definitely that dense.

“So, is Viktor going to be sneaking into our room tonight? Maybe I should take a dreamless sleeping draught just in case. I think I’ll puke if I have to listen to your sounds of making lurrrve all night. I can only imagine how nauseating it would be. Oh, Viktor,” she mocked in a high pitch voice. “Fuck me harder. Give me that orgasm that I’ve read so much about but have yet to experience from a boy.” 

Then making crude thrusting motions with her body, she said in a much lower voice, “Oh Herm-own-ninny, I is vorld renowned Quidditch player and fucking superstar. I vill give you vonderful orgasms vith my big Nimbus.”

“Ginerva Weasley! You are absolutely horrid!” cried Hermione, shocked at her friend’s outrageous behavior.

“Please. Your innocent act won’t fly anymore, Hermione. “So, quit acting like you’re still a virgin.”

“I’m not acting like anything. And will you stop saying that! I should have never told you. All I want to do is brush my teeth.”

“Because you’ve been giving blow jobs,” said Ginny stubbornly.

“That is beside the point.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Ginny triumphantly. “I knew it!”

“You don’t know anything. I already told you that I didn’t do ‘that’ with Viktor.” Today anyway, she added silently.

“So, who was it then? Fred?”

“Fred! Why would I do ‘that’ with Fred?” asked Hermione, completely caught off guard.

“He has a thing for you,” said Ginny mischievously.

“No, he does not. Why would you even say such a thing?” asked Hermione in disbelief.

“I read his diary,” stated Ginny without a hint of guilt.

“Ginny! That’s an invasion of privacy!” exclaimed Hermione. She was trying very hard not to think about how she had read Malfoy’s diary. Stupid fucking fake diary.

“So. He’s in my business all of the time. Serves him bloody right.”

“But does he read your diary?” asked Hermione pointedly.

“I’m not stupid enough to keep a diary,” Ginny scoffed, completely missing the point.

“What did he say?” asked Hermione, unable to control her curiosity. The thought of Fred liking her was an interesting one. Slightly disturbing but interesting just the same. She was feeling a little rejected after being dumped so brusquely by Viktor. And hanging around Malfoy for the past five days hadn’t done a lot for her self-esteem either with his constant ridicule and never-ending insistence that he didn’t like her.

“What happened to it being an invasion of privacy? Hmmm?” asked Ginny, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly.

Crap. “Well, um your arguments for reading the diary were very compelling,” stammered Hermione.

“Yeah right.”

“Just tell me,” said Hermione, not in the mood to play games with Ginny.

“I really don’t think I should,” said Ginny, fully smirking now.

“Just tell me what he fucking said!” said Hermione, getting thoroughly annoyed now.

“Hermione Granger!” reprimanded Ginny mockingly. “When did you get such a dirty mouth? This morning?”

Hermione glared at her friend. Ex-friend.

“Fred would like that,” continued Ginny slyly. “He’s into dirty talk or so I’ve read.”

“Never mind. I don’t want to know anymore. Why would you even want to read your brother’s diary anyway? It’s disgusting.”

“Oh, it’s very entertaining. Especially the pictures he hides in it,” said Ginny her eyes twinkling at Hermione.

“Pictures?” asked Hermione somewhat fearfully. Shit.

“Yes, pictures. Would you like me to tell you about the pictures, Hermione?”

“No?”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Oh God, Ginny. Are they absolutely horrible?” asked Hermione, burying her face in her hands.

“They’re very… artistic?” said Ginny questioningly and then she burst out laughing. “Oh, Hermione. What were you thinking?”

“I am going to die. Just kill me now and get it over with. Use the Avada. I know you’re capable of it. Do you think they’ve shown them to anyone? Do you think Ron’s seen them?”

“No. I don’t think so. Ron would be walking around in a complete stupor if he saw those pictures. He would probably forget how to speak properly. How exactly did Fred and George get a hold of those anyway?”

“Fucking Peeping Parchment.”

“Oh,” said Ginny understanding dawning. “I thought maybe you went off the deep end and posed naked for a cause like improving owl rights or something.”

“Don’t be stupid, Ginny.”

“You were caught naked with an owl. I could have come to much worse conclusions.”

“I was taking a shower when the owl came. The recording parchment they used wrote down something that I didn’t want to be in the possession of evil twins. I was just trying to get the parchment back.”

“Who won? You or the owl?”

“The fucking owl.”

“You’re fucked then. They’ll have you down on your knees begging for mercy. At least that’s a position your comfortable with.”

“Oh God. Gin, you have got to help me get those pictures back.”

“What’s in it for me?” asked Ginny.

“The satisfaction of helping a friend and taking down evil twins.”

“You can do better than that.”

“What do you want?” asked Hermione warily. The twins weren’t the only evil ones in this family.

“Find out how Harry feels about me.”

“He loves you, you idiot. Will you help me now?”

“No. I want to know how he actually feels, not what you think he feels. I want it to come out of his mouth.”

“Ginny. Boys don’t talk about their feelings. They’re boys. They eat, sleep, cause us misery and make up stories about getting laid. Oh and Quidditch ranks in there somewhere. That’s pretty much the depth of them.”

“Well, you’ll just have to make him. Or I won’t help you,” huffed Ginny. 

“You should have been put in Slytherin,” complained Hermione.

“The Sorting Hat did want to put me in Slytherin, but I wanted to be in Gryffindor because Harry was.”

“You picked your House based on a boy?”

“Not just any boy, Harry. Besides, who would want to be stuck in a House with a bunch of Slytherins, especially that prat Malfoy? That would completely suck.”

“Yes, it would,” agreed Hermione, who knew way too much about that. And in more ways than one unfortunately. “You have no idea.”

“So, do we have a deal or not?” asked Ginny.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just get the pictures myself. Why should I make myself suffer through an awkward conversation with Harry just for your help?”

“Because you don’t stand a chance without me. Fred and George have their room booby trapped. You need someone who thinks as evilly as they do. You need me. Besides I’ve snuck into their room loads of times. And I know where the diary is.”

She had a point about that. “Alright,” agreed Hermione reluctantly. “When should we do it?”

“Tonight after they go to bed. They sleep like the dead. Especially after they have been drinking all night.”

“What if they don’t drink tonight?” asked Hermione worriedly. She didn’t want them waking up when she was searching their bedrooms. No good could come from that. They probably slept naked.

“Of course, they’ll drink tonight. We all will. Just be careful you don’t drink too much, or you will ruin the whole plan.”

“I’m not drinking at all,” said Hermione adamantly. There was no way she was drinking with Malfoy around or the evil twins for that matter. She did not forget about her little drinking problem and the thought of shagging any one of them was quite out of the question.

“Well, good luck with that,” said Ginny skeptically.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Fred and George have big plans for tonight, especially Fred,” said Ginny smirking.

“I don’t even want to know,” said Hermione. “I’m sure I won’t like it.”

“Just lay back and think of England then.”

“Ha, ha. You know Fred probably just wrote all of that stuff in his diary because he knew you were reading it. I bet he doesn’t even like me.”

“Okay, what should we bet?” asked Ginny excitedly.

“What? No! I don’t want to make a bet with you.”

“Are you chicken?” goaded Ginny.

If Ginny had used any other expression, Hermione would have just let it go. However, she was still feeling sensitive about the whole laying egg thing and was not in the mood to be reminded of it. “I am not a chicken.”

“Alright then, if Fred puts the moves on you, then you have to work into a conversation ten naughty things from a list that I come up with,” said Ginny smiling evilly.

Hermione was beginning to think this wasn’t such a good idea. Ginny was evil. Well, two could play at that game. “Okay, and if he doesn’t put the moves on me (and joking around doesn’t count), then you have to go out on a date with Neville and his Grandmother,” said Hermione, trying to hide her own smirk.

“You evil little bitch. I didn’t think you had it in you. I think we have to clarify what counts as putting the moves on and what is just joking around though,” said Ginny. “I don’t want you backing out of the bet on a technicality.

“Well, the twins are always making lewd comments, so that shouldn’t count,” insisted Hermione.

“Agreed, unless he’s following through on said comments,” said Ginny, waggling her eyebrows.

“A meaningless kiss that only last a few seconds doesn’t count either,” continued Hermione in a very business like manner.

“But if he sticks his tongue down your throat, it counts.”

“Okay, that’s fine. We have to allow for mild groping though. They’re always grabbing my ass.”

“Alright, it doesn’t count unless he goes for the money spot. Or if there is any groping with nudity. That definitely counts.”

“No nudity. Check. Is there anything else?” asked Hermione.

“If he sticks his tongue in any crevice of your body. That counts.”

“What if he sticks it up my nose? Does that count?” asked Hermione sarcastically.

“Yes. You’d have to really like someone to be able to do that. Do we have a bet? Or do you have more kinky ideas to throw out there?” asked Ginny, holding out her hand.

“We have a bet,” said Hermione, taking her hand. However, she gasped in surprise when Ginny held her wand to their clasped hands. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No,” replied Ginny immediately.

“What happens if one of us doesn’t follow through with the conditions of the bet?” asked Hermione with concern in her voice.

“You don’t want to know,” said Ginny darkly.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this. This day just keeps sucking more and more,” complained Hermione.

“Oh, speaking of sucking, your trunk with your toothbrush is in my room, but I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. Phlegm’s dying to get her hands on you. Not that your hair couldn’t use all the help it could get, but the sooner you go in there, the sooner you have to put on your dress. Maybe you should just use Fred’s toothbrush,” said Ginny.

“Oh my God. The dress! Ginny I need your help.”

“Sure, Hermione. What can I do? Should I hold down Fleur while you hex her, or can I do the hexing? I’d love to get that stuck up bitch with my Bat Bogey Hex. It would serve her fucking right,” said Ginny, looking excited about the prospect.

“No, that’s not what I meant. Wait a minute. Are the dresses that bad?”

Ginny shrugged noncommittally. 

“I want you to help me get rid of these,” said Hermione, pulling down her turtleneck and revealing her dark marks. It figures a Death Eater would give them to her.”

Ginny started laughing again. “You have been being a naughty girl! Ron always said that Viktor sucked, but I had no idea!”

“Alright, Ginny,” said Hermione, gritting her teeth. “I don’t need anymore puns. I need a spell to get rid of these.”

“I don’t know any.” Ginny shrugged.

“Of course you do. You went out with half the school last year.”

“Well, that’s real nice. It was only a handful, and they were nice boys for the most part. Michael Corner was a little handsy but other than that, they were harmless. And besides, I only went out with all those boys to get Harry to notice me. I didn’t actually let them do anything. Much. I’m saving myself for Harry. I’m not loose, you know.”

“Oh, and I am?” asked Hermione, starting to get angry again. She did not like being called loose. She was quite comfortable with the role of uptight bitch. “I’ll have you know; I made Viktor wait three years before I had sex with him. Three long years I fought his advances off.”

“Yeah, yeah. You have the strongest knees at Hogwarts. You deserve a frigging Order of Merlin.”

Hermione glared.

“Well, I’m not saying you’re a slutty bitch like Lavender, but you certainly have loosened up since I last saw you. It’s not like I’m judging you or anything. I’m sure it’s much more comfortable without that stick up your ass,” said Ginny, smirking. She definitely should have been put in Slytherin.

Hermione continued to glare.

“Damn, the stick is still there, isn’t it? Well, maybe if you and Viktor are a little more creative with your lurve making tonight, you can knock it loose.

“You are disgusting. And you talk about sex way too much to be as virginal as you claim to be,” huffed Hermione.

“Well, I’m not the prude; my boyfriend is. As soon as he defeats You Know Who, I’m going to pop his cherry and mine.”

“Thanks for sharing, Gin. Now, what am I going to do about these marks? I doubt the bridesmaid dress Fleur picked out will cover these.”

“Not bloody likely,” said Ginny. “You’ll have to ask Fred and George. They would know a spell. They’re male sluts.”

“I can’t ask them!”

“I’m sure they’ve seen worse things. In fact, I know they’ve seen worse things,” said Ginny pointedly.

“I realize that,” said Hermione, thinking about the naked pictures they had of her, “but this is way too embarrassing.”

“They’re hickeys, Hermione. They’re not really all that interesting,” said Ginny not impressed.

“Some of them are in awkward places. I can’t just go into their room and start stripping. And if you knew who gave them to me, you would think they were very interesting,” said Hermione angrily and quite without thinking it through.

“They’re not from Viktor?” gasped Ginny. “Now, that is interesting.”

“No. Never mind. It’s not interesting at all. You were right. Boring. Very Boring.”

“Who could it be? Ron?” said Ginny, thinking out loud. Then she pulled down Hermione’s shirt and took a closer look. “No. These were done by someone who knew what he was doing.”

Hermione yanked her shirt away. “It doesn’t matter, Ginny. Just forget it.”

“I bet it would matter to Viktor,” said Ginny, studying her face carefully.

“I don’t care what the fuck Viktor thinks.”

“Ooh, trouble in paradise?” asked Ginny. She was such a gossip whore.

“Something like that,” grumbled Hermione. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know!” exclaimed Ginny excitedly.

“Know what?” asked Hermione confused.

“Who gave you the hickeys of course! It was Professor Lupin!”

“Professor Lupin! Are you out of your mind?”

“No. It makes perfect sense now. He’s been acting funny every time someone mentions your name. You two are having a secret love affair,” accused Ginny excitedly.

“Would you shut up, Ginny. I am not having a secret love affair with Remus. That is completely ridiculous. And disturbing.”

“Who is it then if it not Reeemus?” asked Ginny, drawing out his name obnoxiously.

“It’s none of your business; that’s who. You are a nosy little bitch, Ginny Weasley.”

“You’re the one who started it,” huffed Ginny.

“Only because you were saying I wasn’t interesting,” grumbled Hermione.

“I said the hickeys weren’t very interesting, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to be keeping a very close eye on you and Professor Lupin.”

“Whatever, Ginny. What am I going to do about these stupid things? I don’t want Ron or Harry seeing them.”

“I guess you could ask Mum, but you’d probably get a lecture. Same with Percy although he would maybe only know about it in theory. I don’t think Penelope really put out much.”

“Ginny you’re really not helping. I am not asking your Mum or Percy. That would be worse than asking Fred and George and definitely more awkward.”

“I don’t see why you can’t just ask Fred and George. They’ve already seen you naked.”

“Only in a picture. And I don’t want to have to listen to their snide comments and gloating about the pictures. You know how they are.”

“That’s it!” cried Ginny.

“What? What are you talking about?” asked Hermione.

“They won’t be able to help gloating about the pictures. They can’t help being pricks, and we’ll use it against them. You can distract them with your nakedness and find out loads of information. Think of it as a reconnaissance mission. You can poke around, find clues and check out their defense system. They may have put up additional traps with you coming here.”

“What do you mean distract them with my nakedness,” asked Hermione warily.

“You know how stupid boys are when they’re not thinking with their brains. Just take off your shirt or something. They’re bound to slip up and make a mistake.”

“I don’t know about this, Gin.”

“It’s perfect. You can get rid of those hickeys and get that much closer to getting your pictures back. This plan is brilliant, if I do say so myself,” said Ginny, practically patting herself on the back.

“Yeah, fucking brilliant,” said Hermione sarcastically. Ginny wasn’t the one getting naked.

Ginny turned on her. “Do you have a better idea? Do you have a plan that doesn’t suck? I highly doubt it,” said Ginny sarcastically. “Maybe you should just ask Viktor. I’m sure he’s had this problem before,” she added pointedly.

Hermione knew two things for sure. This day was going to completely suck, whether it involved anymore blow jobs or not, and Ginny Weasley was a fucking bitch.


	32. Twin Time

“You are such a bitch,” grumbled Hermione, glaring at Ginny. Like she really needed to be reminded of Viktor’s extracurricular activities.

“I know!” agreed Ginny, overly cheerful. 

“You don’t have to be so happy about it,” replied Hermione grumpily. The only thing worse than a bitch in a bad mood was a bitch in a good mood. 

“I’ve embraced my bitchiness. You should try it,” said Ginny pointedly. “Now, enough chitchat. Get a move on, you lazy slut. Meet me back at my room as soon as you’ve finished your assignment. I guess we’re going to have to get dressed sooner or later. Remember to find out what kind of traps they have set. The more we know, the better. And for goodness sake, get rid of those hickeys while you’re at it. You’re so marked up; you could pass for Eloise Midgen’s naughty sister.”

Hermione aimed a few choice hand gestures at the door Ginny walked out of and then eventually gathered up enough courage to step out of the bathroom herself. She really didn’t want to do this, but Ginny was right. She didn’t have a better idea. Tentatively, she walked to the twins' bedroom, trying desperately to come up with a better plan than Ginny’s, one that didn’t involve getting naked. She was standing just outside the twins' door, contemplating on whether or not she should knock, when the decision was made for her, and the door was thrown wide open. She was suddenly face to chest with a half-naked Fred or maybe it was George, not like it fucking mattered or anything. They were both evil and out to get her. If Hermione had been looking at his face, which she most certainly was not, she would have noticed the smirk on it.

“Hermione! You’re… dressed,” said Fred, by way of greeting.

“And you’re not,” said Hermione, unable to take her eyes off his naked chest and well-toned abs. Who knew he was so fucking hot?

“Just getting ready for the wedding. What can we do for you, Hermione? Were you looking for something in particular?” asked Fred, clearly amused by the situation and Hermione’s reaction.

“I, uh…” began Hermione, unable to focus on his question. Why was she here again?

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Fred. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” He then, not so modestly, covered up his nipples by placing a finger over each one, “There, is that better?”

“Oh, God,” Hermione practically moaned.

“Shove off, Fred,” said George, pushing him out of the way. “Let her in already.”

Hermione turned to George gratefully only to discover that George wasn’t wearing any pants. Just fucking great. She might as well have seen one of them completely naked. Hermione covered her eyes with her hands and said, “I am not coming in until you two get dressed.” She needed to focus on the plan, and at the moment, she was having a difficult time remembering it. They were distracting her with their nakedness instead of the other way around. She briefly wondered where Fred, George and Ginny all got their evil genius from. Arthur and Molly Weasley were such lovely people.

“Oh, come on, Hermione. What’s a little nakedness between friends,” said George, grinning mischievously. 

“It’s not like we haven’t seen you naked. We’re just returning the favor,” added Fred.

“We liked the dirty pictures you sent us, by the way,” said George. “They were fucking hot.”

“Especially the one of you holding the flapping owl above your head,” said Fred with a dreamy look on his face.

“Fred won’t even let me touch that one. Not that I want to… anymore,” added George with a slight look of disgust on his face.

“Shut up, George,” replied Fred.

Throughout this exchange, Hermione had listened with growing anger and had gradually dropped her hands from her face. Naked or not, she was now openly scowling at the twins. She wanted those pictures, and she was going to get them, no matter what she had to do. “Give me those fucking pictures. Now!”

“Aw, Hermione, you’re so cute,” said George condescendingly. “You don’t really think we’re just going to hand them over, do you?”

“Yes, I do think that, or I’m going to hex the shit out of you,” said Hermione, drawing her wand on George.

“Ooh, do that to me now,” said Fred. “That’s really hot.”

Hermione replied with a stinging hex to his ass.

“Ow! Fuck!” yelled Fred, rubbing his ass. “I like it kinky, but do you really want to start on the foreplay with George still in the room?”

“I don’t mind,” said George with a shrug.

“I am warning you. I am not in the mood,” said Hermione, losing her patience.

“See, George, I told you we shouldn’t have sent Malfoy in. Now, she’s not in the mood anymore,” grumbled Fred.

“Like you were going to get any anyway,” said George, as though Hermione weren’t in the room. “With Krum out of the way, you’ll have a much better chance tonight.”

“Too true, George. Never did like that fucking prick,” replied Fred.

“He was a right wanker,” agreed George. “Hermione should be down on her knees thanking us for what we did for her. We might just get lucky tonight after all.”

“What is all this ‘we’ business about?” asked Fred, narrowing his eyes. “I thought you were going to go for one of Fleur’s Veela cousins.” 

“That was before I knew how fun Hermione could be,” answered George, smirking.

“No, forget it. I called her first,” said Fred. “You weren’t up for the challenge. Said you didn’t want to have to work so hard for it.”

“Well, I changed my mind, didn’t I? Scared of a little competition from your much better looking brother?” asked George mockingly.

“No,” replied Fred with a snicker. “Bill’s getting married. I don’t think he’ll be a problem at all. It seems my only competition is my dim-witted twin. And maybe Malfoy.”

“Malfoy,” scoffed George. “He should be thanking us as well, the stupid prat. Although hopefully not down on his knees,” said George as an afterthought.

“That lucky bastard. Who knew our little joke would turn out to be such a good deed?” mused Fred dejectedly. “Krum pretty much got a free pass. Hermione got rid of a shit boyfriend. And Malfoy plain got off. Maybe we’re not the evil bastards we thought we were.”

“Don’t even think it, Fred. Of course we are. The day’s still young. There’s plenty of evil to be done. There’s a wedding to ruin, a reception to rock and an after party to remember. Not to mention, Malfoy to torture and Hermione to deflower. Well, perhaps we’re a little late for the deflowering bit, but I’m sure there is still lots of fun to be had. In fact, now we know there is lots of fun to be had.”

“You’re right, George. That was just one joke gone awry. I feel much better now. You are a good brother and an even better partner in crime. I’m going to feel right bad when I kick your ass in our little competition. Hermione is all mine,” said Fred, grinning mischievously and winking at Hermione, who was looking like she was about to kill him.

“Not a chance, bro. I’m not just going to just give you Hermione because you’re my brother. I plan to fight dirty.”

“And you think I won’t?” asked Fred, raising one eyebrow.

“Of course you will. That will be half the fun of it. We’ll finally find out who the real trickster in the family is. May the best twin win,” said George, holding out his hand.

Fred shook it and said, “Don’t worry, I will.”

“We’ll see about that. Personally, I think Malfoy has a better shot at Hermione than you do,” chided George.

“No way. He’d have to get his head out of his ass first. He’s still under the misguided impression that he doesn’t like her. Dumb ass,” said Fred.

“Yeah, he’s a fucking idiot,” agreed George. “We practically gave him Hermione on a silver platter, and he’s still in denial about it.”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’re the idiots, George. What the fuck were we thinking? That was a shit plan we had,” said Fred.

“Well, who could have predicted it would have turned out that way? Krum wasn’t supposed to take that long to catch the Snitches. Greatest Seeker in the world, my ass,” said George.

“And Malfoy was way too fast. No control at all. Slytherin sex God, my ass,” said Fred.

“And who would have thought Hermione would be so fast. Biggest prude at Hogwarts, my ass,” returned George, smirking over at her.

“I always suspected as much,” mused Fred, winking at her. “You know what they say about the quiet ones.”

“Besides, the plan wasn’t that bad. We got rid of Krum, didn’t we?” pointed out George.

“There is that,” said Fred.

Hermione had been growing red with embarrassment and anger throughout the entirety of the conversation and couldn’t restrain herself anymore. “What are you two assholes talking about?” she asked with mounting suspicion and dislike. It better not be what she was thinking they were talking about or very soon there was going to be two very dead twins.

“Which part?” asked George unhelpfully. “The part about you not being a prude or the part about Fred and I competing to find out just how much of a prude you aren’t.

“The idiotic plan part,” said Hermione angrily. “The ruining my life part.

“Oh, that. It was nothing. We just sent Malfoy into Percy’s room after we had Ron interrupt Krum’s fun,” replied Fred.

“You what!” exclaimed Hermione. “How could you do that?”

“It was easy enough,” said George. “We figured out that you disguised Malfoy as Krum and then we saw the real Krum show up. It was too good to pass up really, so we decided to play a little mistaken identity prank. We do those all of the time, although usually just with ourselves. Anyway, we let all of the Snitches go, so Krum would have to leave to go catch them. Had to lock poor Harry in the cupboard, so he wouldn’t spoil the plan and catch all of the Snitches himself, but he’s used to that. We figured Krum with his big head would go off to catch them despite the fact that he had more interesting things or rather people to do,” said George with a wink at Hermione.

“We found Malfoy hiding from Ron, so no one would force him to catch the Snitches, not that he could, the lazy bastard,” said Fred. “Then we may have ‘accidentally' let it slip that you were in Percy’s room. From there, we just had to sit back and let the mayhem take its course.”

“You two are completely horrible monsters,” accused Hermione angrily.

“Why? Did Malfoy get a little surprise?” asked George, trying to keep a straight face but failing. “Or did you blow it?” They both burst out laughing at this.

Hermione was livid. It was bad enough that she had given Malfoy a blow job but to find out that two evil twins perpetrated the whole stupid thing was absolutely infuriating. She was going to kill them.

“Wow, Hermione, you don’t look like you’re feeling very well. Did you swallow something the wrong way? Did Malfoy’s coming upset your stomach?” asked Fred, choking on his fake concern.

“Maybe her experience with Malfoy just left a bad taste in her mouth,” said George, laughing hysterically.

That was it. Too many fucking puns. Hermione hit George with a well placed Petrificus Totalus and watched with satisfaction as he fell hard to the ground, only pausing slightly to notice his shirt ride up. She then turned on Fred but was met with his wand pointed right at her chest.

“Care to duel, Hermione?” asked Fred, clearly enjoying himself.

Hermione responded with another Petrificus Totalus, which was lazily blocked by Fred.

“You can do better than that,” said Fred, tossing a stinging hex at her ass, which caused her to yelp.

“You fucking bastard,” said Hermione, glaring at Fred.

“Did you think I was going to go light on you?” asked Fred, smirking.

“Reducto,” said Hermione, pointing her wand at the bed in the corner and blowing it to pieces. “No, did you think I was going to go light on you?”

“That was bloody brilliant,” complimented Fred. “But that was Malfoy’s bed. We drew straws, and we got fucking stuck with him. Hope you’re not planning on sharing your bed with him now.”

“Not bloody likely. Malfoy can sleep on the floor for all I care,” sniffed Hermione.

“What about Viktor?”

“He can sleep on the floor too. Wherever he is.”

“He’s a fucking prick, that one.”

“Did you two listen to everything?” asked Hermione, turning pink.

“Extendable ears. We definitely got an earful, but it sounded like you got a mouthful,” said Fred, laughing again.

“Fucking perverts,” mumbled Hermione, hitting Fred with a Sponge-Knees Curse and effectively bringing him to his knees.

Fred gained control of his legs and stood up to say rather cheekily, “Learn that from Malfoy? I suspected he must have done something to get you down on your knees like that.”

Hermione promptly hit Fred with a well-placed stinging hex, bringing him yet again to his knees. “Now who’s down on their knees, Fred?” asked Hermione vindictively.

“Fuck!” yelled Fred in a higher pitch than normal. “Shit that stings. You could have just asked if you wanted me in this position. We’re not going to be able to have children if you’re not a little more careful.” 

“Expelliarmus,” said Hermione, calmly catching his wand. “Now, tell me where those pictures are.”

“Alright, I’m really turned on right now,” grunted out Fred, making his way bent over to his bed, “really I am, but you’re going to have to give me a minute. It stings like a mother…”

Hermione ignored Fred and stepped over George, forgetting the fact that she wasn’t wearing any knickers. George would have gone stiff if he wasn’t already. As Fred and George were both incapacitated at the moment, Hermione took it upon herself to start searching for the pictures. As she flung open the wardrobe door, she felt an odd fluttering sensation on her head. She ignored it while she searched the wardrobe. Whatever it was, wasn’t important. She needed to find the pictures quickly and didn’t have time to dwell on stupid things or stupid people. Mainly Fred.

“Why are you wearing a tiara,” asked Fred curiously.

“It’s a diadem,” said Hermione automatically. Then her hands flew up to her head.

“Where is my hat?”

“Who cares? It was fucking hideous,” said Fred.

“It was better than this thing,” said Hermione angrily, tugging at the diadem.

“I don’t know. It’s kind of fitting, you being the Gryffindor princess and all.”

“I am not the Gryffindor princess,” huffed Hermione. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Maybe because you go about wearing crowns,” suggested Fred unhelpfully.

Hermione noticed Fred was lying on his back with his hands behind his head, looking all too comfortable. Her eyes narrowed. He was up to something. “You’re looking better,” said Hermione suspiciously.

“Notice finally? I’ve been oozing on the charm since you got here,” said Fred, winking obnoxiously at her.

“No, I meant that you look like you’ve recovered. Aren’t you going to try and stop me from looking for the pictures?”

“No. I don’t think so. There is no way you will find them, and it will be very entertaining to watch you try.

Hermione shrugged. Perhaps, Fred wasn’t aware that she was the smartest witch of her age. Diligently, Hermione checked the pockets of all the clothes. Nothing. Undaunted, she opened a box on the bottom of the wardrobe and gasped as her shirt and one of her shoes disappeared. She heard Fred chuckling behind her and crossing her arms over her chest, she turned around to glare at him.

Fred was not intimidated. “That turtleneck was hideous too, although I can now see your reason for wearing it,” said Fred, eyeing her hickeys curiously.

Hermione’s hand flew up to her neck but then she quickly returned it to covering herself up. “Booby traps, I suppose.”

“Literally.” Fred laughed.

“Do you want me to hex you again?” asked Hermione, pointing her wand at him.

“No,” said Fred, covering himself with his hands. “I’ll shut up. Just continue your search, that is unless you’re ready to give up now.”

“Do you really think I’m going to let a little thing like this stop me?” asked Hermione determinedly.

“I’m hoping not,” said Fred, grinning.

Hermione grabbed a bunch of clothes out of the wardrobe and started putting them on in layers. She then took the time to smirk at Fred before she continued her search.

“Very clever,” admitted Fred, still watching her closely.

Hermione was disappointed to not find anything good in the box she had lost her shirt over. It was just a box filled with various joke products. Rather appropriate, as it had turned out the joke was on her. She moved onto the next box, but the moment she opened it was horrified to discover that all of the clothes she had just put on plus her other shoe immediately disappeared. Now, all she was wearing was a bra and a skirt since she had lost her knickers somewhere in Percy’s room, thanks to her ex-boyfriend. Therefore, she no longer felt confident to continue with the search.

“Just not quite clever enough,” continued Fred. “You’re welcome to try again, although George isn’t going to be very happy you vanished all of his clothes.”

“Well, it’s his own fault, isn’t it?” said Hermione angrily. “Maybe I should vanish yours as well.”

“I’m up for it. I’m not that fond of these pants anyway,” said Fred, looking down at the pants he was wearing. “And the stinging sensation is gone. It’s just a little tingly now.”

“Lovely,” said Hermione sarcastically. She was extremely frustrated that she hadn’t found the pictures yet but at least she had achieved most of the goals Ginny had set out for her. She now had a pretty good idea of the type of defensive spells the twins were using to keep her from getting the pictures, an intimate knowledge really. She was also half naked, and Fred was definitely looking rather distracted at the moment. Ginny would be so proud. Just one more thing to do, and she might as well get it over with. At least she didn’t have to deal with George, as he was still down for the count. “Um, Fred?”

“Yes, dear,” said Fred annoyingly.

“I think you’re a right bastard for what you did, but …”

“Oh, stop with the flattery, Hermione. You’re embarrassing me,” interrupted Fred.

“Is there any way to shut you up for two minutes,” grumbled Hermione.

“I can think of several, and it would be for a lot longer than two minutes. Don’t let Malfoy’s shortcomings affect the way you look at sex.”

“If I have to shut you up, I will, but it will be with a hex not sex. Now, just shut up, so I can ask you to do something really embarrassing for me.”

“Ooh, embarrassing, huh?” said Fred, trying to figure out what it could possibly be. “Is it of a sexual nature? Because I can shove George under the bed if you want me to.”

“I am not having sex with you!” exclaimed Hermione exasperatedly.

“You’re right. We should wait for the owl anyway,” said Fred thoughtfully.

Hermione was about to ask Fred her really awkward question when it dawned on her what he had just said. “Wait. What?”

“Our owl is off checking on R.S.V.P.’s for the wedding,” explained Fred.

“So? What does that have to do with anything?” asked Hermione thoroughly confused.

“That picture of you with the owl,” said Fred as though it were obvious. “That is my number one fantasy at the moment. We should definitely wait for the owl before we do anything.”

“You want me to have sex with you and a bloody owl!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I want you to have sex with me while you’re holding a bloody owl.”

Hermione had absolutely nothing to say to that. Well, almost nothing. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I don’t always joke around, you know. Sometimes, I’m completely serious.” He then patted the bed and said, “Now, come on over here, and I’ll help you with your little problem. I don’t want to have to look at them all night either.”

Hermione silently walked over to Fred and tentatively sat on the edge of the bed by him. She handed him back his wand with a warning look, but he didn’t pay her any mind and scooted in close behind her. He moved her hair to the side so he could have access to the back of her neck and then her eyes widened in shock as she felt him undo the clasp on her bra. He sure was a brazen bastard. She could feel his warm breath on her neck, and it made her shiver involuntarily. His wand traced around a hickey, and he mumbled some words she couldn’t understand. She was having a hard time concentrating with a half-naked Fred being so close to her that she would have never remembered the spell anyway. Hopefully, she would never need it again. She was almost certain she wouldn’t. Well, more than likely anyway. Fred worked methodically over every hickey, his wand gliding sexily over her skin. 

“Alright, I got all of them back here. You’ll have to turn around,” said Fred, breathing in her ear.

Hermione swallowed hard and slowly turned until she was facing Fred. She couldn’t look him in the eye though as he continued tracing the hickeys on her shoulders and along her collarbone. His wand tickled and the spell was making her feel kind of tingly all over. At least she told herself it was because of the spell. Fred continued working his magic, moving his wand to more sensitive areas. She bit her lip as she felt her bra straps slip off her shoulders. If she was going to get any more information out of him, this was the time. “Um, Fred? How many pictures do you have of me?”

“Ten. George has five, and I have five. George got stuck with the ones with Malfoy in them though. Mine are all spectacular,” said Fred, looking longingly at her. Ginny was just about to win the bet when Malfoy suddenly barged in and promptly tripped over George.

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Malfoy. “There’s fucking Weasels everywhere. You can’t even walk around here without tripping over one.”

“And yet they are all somehow less disruptive than one annoying Malfoy. You don’t see George here bothering us, do you?” asked Fred, pointing down at his stiff as a board brother.

“He’s on the frigging floor.”

“Exactly. As will you be if you don’t get lost. Hermione and I are busy.”

Malfoy took in the situation and was not happy about it. He was scowling even more than usual if that was possible. Hermione jumped away from Fred guiltily, quickly pulling up the straps of her bra. As she looked up, her brown eyes met his gray ones. The intensity of his gaze set off butterflies in her stomach, which she quickly squashed with her anger. 

“You forgot to take your Polyjuice Potion,” she accused.

“And you forgot to leave your clothes on apparently,” returned Malfoy.

Hermione’s hands flew up to cover her chest. “I didn’t forget. I just… oh, never mind. You’re just lucky Harry and Ron didn’t see you, or you would be dead right now. Not that that would matter or anything.”

“You’re the one who said you were going to remind me. You should have been doing your job instead of going off shagging Weasley twit number two.”

“Hey!” said Fred indignantly. “I’m Weasley twit number one by seven minutes.”

“Whatever,” said Malfoy, not taking his eyes of Hermione. 

“I am not shagging Fred. He was just removing the marks for me. The ones you wouldn’t help with,” pointed out Hermione, quickly fastening the back of her bra.

“Oh yeah? And was he using his tongue or paint remover to do that?”

“Oh, ha ha, Malfoy. You’re so funny. I would laugh with you if I wasn’t so busy laughing at you.”

“I don’t get it,” said Fred. “Although using my tongue would have been a good idea. Note to self.”

“Right, you laughing at me. Now, that’s funny,” said Malfoy, completely ignoring Fred. “You’re the one that’s a laughing stock. What humiliating thing haven’t you done lately?”

“More humiliating than getting caught naked with an owl? I’m listening,” said Fred eagerly.

“What about you, you pink haired shit!” exclaimed Hermione, scowling at Malfoy. “Have you forgotten about all of your stupid hairdos? Because I sure haven’t. I still laugh my ass off about it.”

“Ooh, I hope he got the skunk one,” said Fred. “That was my idea. Had to catch a real skunk to replicate that scent. It was a fucking nightmare really. Mum made me sleep outside that night.”

“Or how about your little stint as Harry Potter? Now, that was a joke. Like you could ever be half the man that he is.”

“Ah, the Harry Potter Fan Club Kit,” said Fred fondly to no on in particular. “Soon to be a classic. Should probably get Harry’s approval on that one.”

“Harry fucking Potter wishes he could be as much of a man as I am,” said Malfoy angrily. “He’s probably still a fucking virgin, but then again, you like that, don’t you, Hermione.”

“She’s into virgins?” exclaimed Fred incredulously. “Damn. I’m screwed then. Or not, I guess.”

“I was not trying to have sex with you, Malfoy. And don’t call me, Hermione! We are not on friendly terms!”

“News flash, Hermione. You have had sex with me. Oral sex, in fact. And you can’t get on friendlier terms than that!”

“That was an accident!”

“What did I miss?” asked George, finally sitting up and stretching.

“Not too much,” said Fred. “Malfoy interrupted.”

“The bastard,” replied George.

“Yeah, it was just getting good, too. I was about to make my move,” pouted Fred.

George looked over at Hermione and then did a double take. “Holy shit. You got her half naked. Good show, mate.”

“Booby traps,” said Fred with a grin.

“Booby,” repeated George goofily. “Bloody brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.”

Malfoy was walking toward Hermione menacingly and didn’t even bother to look at the twins. “Sure it was an accident. You conveniently forgot I wasn’t Viktor Krum. The smartest witch of her age can’t even tell the difference between her boyfriend and her long time nemesis. I’ve been stuck in a house with you for five days, and I’ve probably seen you naked more times than your so called boyfriend has.”

“It is not my fault that you are a fucking pervert!”

“Just admit it, Granger. You have a thing for bad boys,” said Malfoy jeeringly.

“You hear that, Fred,” said George, elbowing his bother. “We’ve totally got a shot then.”

“I do not like bad boys,” insisted Hermione.

“Krum,” said Malfoy, holding up a finger.

“He’s got a point there,” said Fred.

“Goyle,” said Malfoy, holding up another finger.

“Bloody hell! Fucking Goyle,” exclaimed George. “We’re in luck mate. She has really low standards.”

“Regulus,” continued Malfoy.

“Regulus,” said Fred, thinking out loud. “Isn’t he that dead guy hanging in our room at Grimmauld Place?”

“Holy shit, I think you’re right,” said George. “She has even lower standards than I thought.”

“I get it. Paint remover. That’s fucking hilarious.”

“Me,” said Malfoy with a smirk. 

“They just keep getting lower,” said Fred.

“And now, this dumb shit,” said Malfoy, pointing at Fred.

“And lower.” George laughed.

“Hey,” said Fred indignantly.

“Nothing happened with that dumb shit,” insisted Hermione.

“Hey,” said Fred even more indignantly.

“Only because I came in,” said Malfoy.

“Yeah, what he said,” said Fred.

“That’s not true. Nothing would have happened anyway because I’m scared of Ginny.”

“Ginny is such an evil little bitch,” said Fred bitterly. “Why did she have to take after us? Why couldn’t she be more like Ron?”

“Oh, so it was because you were chicken,” taunted Malfoy.

“You take that back,” said Hermione, drawing her wand.

“Oh, she is so hot when she does that,” said Fred.

“Why should I take it back?” asked Malfoy. “Embarrassed by your egg laying days?”

“I don’t think she found our Eggsellent Eggsploding Eggs very eggsellent,” said George.

“Me either,” agreed Fred, shaking off the memory. “I wish I would have tested the Puking Pastilles instead.”

“You just shut up about that, Malfoy,” Hermione snapped.

“Like I really want to relive catching an egg from your…”

“Shut up, Malfoy!”

“This is bloody fantastic. We can say anything we want, and they completely ignore us,” said George. 

“Yeah, watch this,” said Fred. “Hermione, I really like your knockers in that bra. See, she didn’t even blast the shit out of me.”

“Let me try. Hermione, I saw up your skirt before. I know you’re not wearing any knickers,” said George.

Hermione and Malfoy both stopped fighting and turned to look at George. Hermione even turned her wand on him. 

“Great, now they listen.” George threw up his hands in surrender. “Don’t hex me, Hermione. I couldn’t help it. My eyes were frozen open.”

Fred started laughing. “That’s true. I witnessed the whole thing. Except the whole looking up the skirt part, which I am willing to do at this time if it helps.”

“Fucking Morons. Where’s my bed?” asked Malfoy rudely.

“Right there, mate,” replied Fred cheerfully, pointing to the pile of rubble that was once a bed.

“What the fuck happened to it?” asked Malfoy angrily.

“Hermione blew it up,” answered Fred.

“You bitch!”

“Why don’t you just use your wand to fix it,” asked George annoyingly.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that, Malfoy,” taunted Hermione.

“Because you dumb shit, if I use this stupid wand, all I’ll get is a pair of fucking underpants,” replied Malfoy angrily.

“Ah, yes. Our best seller, that one. On the bright side, Hermione here could use a pair of underpants,” joked George.

“Undoubtedly,” said Malfoy, “but she’d just end up fucking losing them again.”


	33. Sexy Somethings

Hermione pointed her wand at Malfoy and jabbed it in his chest. “Don’t mess with me, Malfoy.” 

“I’m not messing with you, Granger. You make a big enough mess of things all on your own,” replied Malfoy coolly.

“My life was fine before I started babysitting you. You are the reason my life is a mess right now. Everything was just fine before you came along.”

“Like I asked you to babysit me,” said Malfoy, getting angry. “Do you really think I like being stuck in a house alone with you? Do you think I like putting up with your shit everyday?” 

The twins looked at Malfoy as though he were insane. “You’re such a whiner, Malfoy,” said Fred. 

“And a moron,” added George.

“I mean, what are you even complaining about?” asked Fred. “You have a fucking hot babysitter.”

“Who doesn’t wear knickers,” continued George.

“And looks even hotter holding onto an owl,” went on Fred.

“Naked,” finished George.

Malfoy rolled his eyes in response. “She’s a bitch and an insufferable know-it-all. She’s always telling me what to do. She’s always in my business, and she makes horrible tea.”

“She’s a strong intelligent woman who knows what she wants and how to get it,” reiterated Fred. “And who the fuck cares about tea when she’s not wearing any knickers?” 

“And she has frizzy hair,” said Malfoy, not willing to give in.

“Her hair looks like she just had sex. She has wild sex hair,” said George, grinning.

Malfoy glared at the twins. What did they know? They sure as hell didn’t know Hermione Granger as well as he did. It wasn’t all knickerless fun like they seemed to think. It was hell. “You try living with her then,” he huffed. “Let her boss you around for a while and leave me the fuck alone.”

“Malfoy, that’s probably the best fucking idea you’ve ever had,” said Fred, his eyes lighting up.

“Brilliant,” agreed George, grinning from ear to ear.

“I have no idea what you two dumb fucks are going on about,” said Malfoy, wishing he had his wand to silence them for good.

“Nargles, my man. We are talking about Nargles. It seems we have an infestation coming on,” said Fred roguishly.

“What the fuck are Nargles?” asked Malfoy, clearly annoyed.

“They’re nasty little buggers,” said George. “Terribly hard to get rid of.”

“There’s no such thing as Nargles,” declared Hermione, glaring at the twins.

“You’re so close minded, Hermione.” Fred smirked. 

“Probably wouldn’t know a Nargle if it bit you in the ass.” George identically smirked.

“We’ll have to have the whole place fumigated, of course,” said Fred. 

“Probably have to stay out of here for an entire week,” agreed George.

“We’ll be homeless,” said Fred dramatically.

“Whatever shall we do?” asked George, trying not to laugh.

“I know!” exclaimed Fred, snapping his fingers as though he had just conveniently come up with a brilliant idea. “We can ask Harry if we can stay at Grimmauld Place.”

“No!” exclaimed Hermione and Malfoy in complete horror and agreement for once.

Hermione glared over at Malfoy. This was all his fault. He was such an idiot. And obviously no match for two evil masterminds like the twins. She would have laughed about it if it didn’t fuck up her life as well, which it most certainly did. “There is no way that I am babysitting you two idiots as well as this one. One is quite enough. Stay at the apartment above your shop if you can’t stay here.”

“Mum won’t let us,” said George, not embarrassed at all. “We’re not allowed in Diagon Alley after dark because of You Know Poo.” 

“So, I guess you’re stuck with us,” said Fred slyly.

“I miss the good old days when I was only fighting one evil prick,” muttered Hermione darkly.

“Come on, Hermione. It will be fun,” said George, putting his arm around her shoulder.

Fred came up and put his arm around her other shoulder. “Besides, we can gang up on Malfoy together. There’s no way you can lose with two evil twins on your side. We can even bring some of our tricks from the back room,” he said ominously.

“While that is tempting,” said Hermione, wondering exactly what kind of things they kept in the back room. “I think it would be more trouble than it’s worth. And I don’t need any help with Malfoy. I’m doing just fine on my own.”

Malfoy scoffed. “You’re delusional, Granger. You need all the help you can get. I’ve been whooping your ass,” he boasted.

“See,” said George. “You need us. We’ll start packing after the wedding.”

“Malfoy, you are such an idiot,” exclaimed Hermione, turning on him furiously. “It serves you right if they do come and stay at Grimmauld Place. I won’t feel sorry for you at all. I hope they let loose every single trick they have on you, especially the ones from the back room. You deserve every horrible thing that is coming to you. I would like to say I’m happy you fucked yourself like this. Unfortunately, you’ve fucked things up for me as well, and I don’t deserve this shit.”

Malfoy glared at her. “Oh, like you’re so innocent. Not! I think we all know that isn’t true.”

“Thank Merlin,” said Fred.

“Hallelujah,” added George.

Hermione put her hands on her hips. “I’m not the one sending them a written invitation to come stay at Grimmauld Place,” she huffed.

Malfoy couldn’t take it anymore. “Look at you!” he thundered. “You are the fucking invitation. Standing there half naked with your hands on your hips wearing a red satin bra and looking sexy as hell with your explosive temper and know-it-all attitude. No wonder they want to fuck you. And you know something? You do have wild sex hair!”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Did Malfoy really just call her sexy? Well, that was… something. Something quite unexpected considering he didn’t like her. Fuck. She felt like she should say something. Anything. But all she could do was stare at him stupidly. She was so completely stunned that he had called her sexy and that he had even noticed that she was wearing a red bra that she didn’t even think to be embarrassed by it. In fact, she was so shocked by the whole thing that she didn’t even think to cover herself up. She just stood there gaping at him in disbelief.

“Shit,” said Fred rather dejectedly. “Malfoy just got a fucking clue.”

“Sorry, Fred. It looks like your competition just got stiffer,” said George, patting Fred on the back. “Stiffer. Get it?”

Fred glowered at his brother.

Malfoy continued as though Fred and George hadn’t interrupted. “So don’t blame me, Granger, when these two shit heads turn up at that shit hole you call headquarters because they sure as hell aren’t coming because of me. If they are coming at all it’s because of you and your inability to keep your knickers on!” 

“That does make us want to come,” agreed Fred diplomatically.

“Yeah, cum,” snickered George.

“Shut up,” mumbled Hermione to no one in particular as she watched Malfoy take a big swig of Polyjuice Potion and turn back into her dickhead ex-boyfriend. “I have to go get ready.”

“See you later, roomie,” said Fred, holding open the door for her and giving her a wink.

Hermione was still too shocked to make the scathing reply that that little comment called for. So, without a word, she stepped out into the hall, completely oblivious of everything surrounding her until she ran smack into the waiting arms of a flustered Ron Weasley.

“Ron!” gasped Hermione. Shit! She looked back at the half naked Fred standing in the doorway and then down at her scantily clad self. Quickly she folded her arms across her chest. “I, um… was just going to, uh…”

“Take a cold shower,” finished Fred, smirking and enjoying himself way too much.

Ron’s eyes narrowed and Hermione’s flight instinct took over. “Yes, well, I better go get ready for the wedding. See you, Ron!” said Hermione hurriedly, rushing off to the bathroom and closing the door behind her. Sometimes it just didn’t pay to act like a Gryffindor. 

She could hear the sounds of raised voices and some scuffling through the door. There was no way she was going back out there. And since she was stuck in the bathroom, she might as well take another shower and wash away Viktor for good. If it was a good idea to ‘wash that man right out of your hair’, which wasn’t exactly easy when you were wearing a fucking crown on your head, then it was probably a good idea to wash him out of other areas as well. Truth be told, she was glad to be rid of him. It seemed she had enough pricks in her life at the moment. 

She didn’t really take Fred and George all that seriously. It was probably just another game to them. And if it was a game, she sure as hell wasn’t going to lose to two evil assholes. When she played, she played to win. She wasn’t Scrabble champion four years in a row for nothing. They were going down. Then there was Regulus. He was handsome and wickedly charming, emphasis on the wicked part, but well, he was dead and getting serious about a dead guy had mistake written all over it, even if he was a really hot dead guy. Goyle, now he was another story. She rather liked Goyle. He was smart and charming and had piercing eyes that seemed to look into her soul. He was strong and confident and had just the right amount of Slytherin in him. And the shagging was… well incredible. She didn’t really like to admit it, but Goyle was damn sexy. Ugh, there was that fucking word again. The biggest problem with Goyle was that some other idiot always seemed to get in the way of things. Fucking Malfoy. She was not going to waste her time thinking about him. After all, he didn’t even like her. Right?

And then there was Ron. He was one of the few good ones. Sure he had done some stupid things, like Lavender last year. Yes, Hermione was quite sure he had done Lavender Brown. And he had a quick temper, and they were always in a fight, but he cared for her and would never intentionally do something to hurt her. He was funny, sweet and brave and most of all a really good friend. They had been through so much together, and she knew he would always be there for her. Hermione had always thought that someday they would be more than just friends but now she just wasn’t so sure. She had no idea what she would do if he one day did find the courage to tell her how he feels. Or even just kiss her already! Of course, it would probably turn out abysmal like it did with Harry. She shuddered just thinking about that awkward kiss. It was probably for the best if they stayed just friends. Why ruin something that was perfect just the way it was?

After, a much needed shower and a bit of head clearing, Hermione went to the mirror to do a drying spell on her hair and was quite pleased to discover her toothbrush on the sink with a red bow tied to it. Despite everything, Ginny Weasley was a good friend. However, Hermione’s warm feelings toward Ginny cooled considerably after reading the attached note, which started off with a smirk. Well, not really, but she could picture Ginny smirking while she wrote it. It said, ‘For your dirty mouth… and the cum. Your friend, Ginny.’ Bitch.

Hermione looked both ways before she crossed the hallway and carefully snuck into Ginny’s room. After all, she didn’t want to have any more awkward run-ins. She briefly considered going to Percy’s room to find her knickers but decided to give them up for a lost cause. For all she knew, Percy could already be wearing them. Hermione was surprised when she stepped into Ginny’s room. It had been magically enlarged to serve as a dressing room for Fleur and her slaves, uh, bridesmaids.

“Oh, Ginny!” called Fleur from the back of the room somewhere in her oh so French accent. “I really zink you should wear your ‘air up off your face. Eet looks so straggly ‘ow you ‘ave eet now.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and made a face at Hermione, who was most sympathetic until she heard Ginny call back to Fleur. “Look who’s here, Fleur. It’s Hermione. Look at her hair,” said Ginny, throwing her friend to the wolves.

“Oh ‘Ermione. This ees a disaster,” said Fleur, walking towards Hermione shaking her head in distaste. “Your ‘air ees so bushy. And there ees only an hour until ze ceremony.”

Hermione glared at Ginny. “Thanks for that.”

Ginny smiled. “What are friends for?”

“And why are you wearing a crown on my wedding day? Eet does absolutely nothing for your ‘orrible ‘air,” said Fleur rather rudely.

“It’s not a crown. It’s a diadem,” said Hermione huffily.

“I don’t care. Take eet off. I am wearing Bill’s Aunt’s Goblin-made tiara, and I will not ‘ave you ruining eet for me.”

“I can’t take it off. It’s stuck,” said Hermione, shrugging. She could tell Fleur was not happy about this situation. At least something good had come out of this whole mess. Maybe wearing a crown, or rather diadem, wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“What do you mean, you can’t take eet off. I insist!”

“You can insist all you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that it is not coming off.”

“We will see about zat,” said Fleur, walking determinedly over to her and yanking on the diadem.

“Ow! Stop that. It has a sticking charm on it. All you are doing is pulling out my hair.”

“Well, at least zare ees some improvement zen,” Fleur said snootily, giving one last tug.

“Some people think my hair is sexy,” grumbled Hermione, massaging her scalp.

“Some people are eediots.”

“Well, that’s true,” admitted Hermione.

“What does zees say?” asked Fleur, taking a closer look at the diadem. “Wit beyond measure ees man’s greatest treasure. Ha! Eet figures your accessories would be something academic. Eet ees probably some cheap trinket you got at ‘Ogwarts. Did you get zees as a reward for raising your hand ze most in class?”

“I’ll have you know, this diadem belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the Founder’s of Hogwarts. It is very valuable and said to bring great wisdom to those who wear it,” huffed Hermione.

“Then eet ees too bad that eet makes you look so stupid,” said Fleur, resigning herself to Hermione wearing a crown in her wedding.

Before Hermione could give her a nasty retort, Fleur’s sister shyly walked over. “Hello Gabrielle. You look absolutely beautiful,” said Hermione sincerely to Fleur’s little sister. Hermione was very happy to see that Gabrielle was wearing a stunning pale gold bridesmaid dress. It had a long flowing skirt, cap sleeves and a demure square neckline. Hermione loved it. She breathed a sigh of relief. She had been a bit worried about what Fleur would pick out. She had heard her fair share of bridesmaid dress horror stories. However, Fleur obviously had impeccable taste, and Hermione needn’t have worried.”

“Yes,” said Ginny through clenched teeth. “Gabrielle’s dress is beautiful. Would you like to see my dress, Hermione?”

“What do you mean? Isn’t it the same as Gabrielle’s?” asked Hermione, somewhat afraid of what her answer would be.

“Oh, no. Fleur thought it would be a good idea if we all had dresses that reflected our personalities. This is obviously my personality,” said Ginny somewhat bitterly. She then held up a pale gold bridesmaid dress that was very unlike Gabrielle’s in every way except for the color. It had a giant hoop skirt and the most enormous puffed sleeves Hermione had ever seen. The whole thing was covered in ruffles including a very fussy ruffled neckline. And it came with a bonnet. A fucking bonnet. It was absolutely horrid.

“Oh, Ginny,” breathed Hermione, trying not to laugh. ”It’s, it’s…” She just couldn’t think of the words for it.

“Yes, it is isn’t it?” replied Ginny unhappily.

“Well, you’ll certainly stand out,” said Hermione, not being able to repress a smile.

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Hermione. I have a feeling nobody will be able to take their eyes off of you,” returned Ginny, an evil grin spreading across her face.

Hermione’s smile suddenly vanished, her stomach in knots. What had Fleur done to her that was worse than that monstrosity Ginny had to wear? Then she saw it, and her eyes grew wide with fear. This was worse than facing a three headed dog, worse than being Petrified or being Polyjuiced into a cat, worse than being chased by a werewolf or Dementors, worse than being kidnapped by ugly mermaids and even worse than being chased by Death Eaters.

“Oh. My. God.”

“Eesn’t eet wonderful? Viktor will die when ‘e sees you in zees dress,” said Fleur, smiling evilly.

“I will die. I am not wearing that, that thing,” cried Hermione, utterly terrified.

“Of course, you are. Zees is my wedding,” huffed Fleur as if she was offended by Hermione’s rude attitude.

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Fleur,” began Hermione calmly, trying to rationalize with this completely irrational bride. “I really don’t know what you were thinking when you picked out this dress, for me of all people, but I absolutely cannot wear it. It’s... it’s vulgar.”

“You are not giving eet a chance, ‘Ermione. I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to be brave. Try eet on and if eet really ees vulgar as you say, I will reconsider you having to wear eet.”

“Alright, I’ll try it on,” said Hermione reluctantly. She really didn’t like that crack about Gryffindor bravery. She had done many brave things after all. However, this dress was an entirely different matter altogether now. Hermione went behind the screen and forced herself to put on the dress. She let out a loud gasp as she looked at herself in the mirror.

“Is it that bad, Hermione?” asked Ginny.

“I can’t even wear knickers with this dress,” cried Hermione incredulously. Not that she was wearing any.

Ginny giggled. “You have to come out, Hermione. I have to see this.”

Hermione reluctantly stepped out from behind the screen. She was wearing a full-length, pale gold gown that was so tight it hugged every inch of her body. There was a slit on one side that went right up to her thigh. It had a halter top with a plunging neckline that showed off cleavage Hermione didn’t even know she had. But the worst part was that it was backless and dipped so low that there was no way she could wear knickers with it. The whole ensemble was completed with a pair of elbow length pale gold gloves and extremely absurd high heeled shoes that were gold with straps around the ankles and were so high she would probably kill herself walking down the aisle. On the bright side, the heels were so spiky that she could probably kill any vampires or annoying prats that came her way.

“Hermione, you’re hot!” cried Ginny.

“I told you zat dress would be wonderful,” said Fleur, obviously delighted.

“Are you kidding me? I’m naked. You’re the bride. Why would you want people gaping at me?” asked Hermione incredulously.

“Please. I’m part Veela. No one will be looking at you when I am around, even if you were naked which you are not,” retorted Fleur.

“Well, I’m not wearing this. I’m taking it off right now,” said Hermione.

“You can’t,” said Fleur with a triumphant smile.

“Yes, I can,” said Hermione, walking toward the screen to change.

“No, really. You can’t. And you can zank your crown for giving me ze idea. The dress ees bewitched. You can’t take eet off until midnight. Viktor will have to have a lot of willpower.” Fleur smirked.

Oh God. That smirk reminded her of Malfoy. Malfoy was going to see her in this dress. She was going to die. No, she was going to kill Fleur.

“I’m going to kill you, Fleur!”

“You can’t. It’s my wedding day,” sang Fleur. “And don’t even zink of covering yourself up with some ugly jumper or trying to change eet in any way. If you do, your hair will fall out. I’ve hexed eet as well.” With that, Fleur left to finish getting ready, leaving Hermione behind fuming.

“I know,” sympathized Ginny. “She’s a real witch in the Muggle sense of the word.”

“Trade with me, Ginny,” begged Hermione desperately. “Your dress is ugly. You’d look much better in this one.”

“I can’t, Hermione. My whole family will be at this wedding. I’m not wearing that in front of my parents or brothers, let alone my Auntie Muriel. She would disinherit me for sure. Besides, Fleur said you can’t take it off until midnight. You’re stuck.”

“Oh, Ginny. What am I going to do?” wailed Hermione. 

“You’ll be okay. You really do have the Gryffindor bravery, you know.”

“I do?”

“Of course, you do,” replied Ginny. “And you do look hot.”

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror, turning to look at the back of the dress as well. “I do, don’t I?” Hermione grinned mischievously.

“Damn straight,” said Ginny, grinning back. “Now, let me do your makeup and tackle that nasty hair of yours. I have no idea who in their right mind would call that rat nest sexy. We have a lot of work to do. There is no room for a plain Jane in that kind of dress.”

When Ginny was finished with her, Hermione couldn’t believe the woman she saw looking back at her. Ginny had tamed her hair by putting it up in an elegant French twist. Then she put pale gold eye shadow on her and mascara that really brought out her warm brown eyes. Her cheeks were glowing and her lips were a soft red, the color of rose petals. Hermione smiled. Red and gold. Very Gryffindor. This was not the bookworm Hermione Granger. This was a goddess. A sex goddess! 

She couldn’t help thinking what the real Viktor would have thought. The shit head. He definitely would have had a difficult time waiting until midnight, that’s for sure. And what would Ron think? She had no idea. He sometimes seemed like he liked her, but he never did anything about it. Would this be the one thing that pushed him over the edge? And Harry, knowing him, he would probably try covering her up with a tablecloth or something. That thought terrified her. She did not want her hair falling out. She would have to keep a close eye on him. This dress was embarrassing, but her hair falling out would be much worse. At least, she looked good in the dress. She would also have to stay away from Fred. And George just to be safe. There was no way she wanted Ginny to win that fucking bet. She was definitely not looking forward to saying all of those horrible things Ginny would come up with.

And what about Malfoy? She tried to push him out of her head, but she couldn’t help wondering. What would he think of her in this dress? Not that it really mattered or anything. He could go to hell for all she cared, but it would be slightly satisfying if he did like what he saw. Because if he thought she was sexy before, there was no telling what he would think when he saw her in this dress. It would probably kill him to have naughty thoughts about her and that made her smile grow even bigger. She didn’t like to admit it, but she thought Malfoy was rather sexy himself. It unfortunately seemed she had a bit of a weak spot for Slytherins. And like it or not, there was definitely something there between her and Malfoy. She wasn’t sure if it was the dress or the fact that she was wearing Voldemort on her head, but Hermione Granger was suddenly feeling a little reckless.


	34. Wedding Woes

As Hermione waited to make that excruciatingly long walk down the aisle, she cautiously peeked out the back door and looked out into the garden where the guests were already waiting for the ceremony to begin. The Weasley's garden was in full bloom and seemed to shimmer all over with what appeared to be a generous sprinkling of fairy dust. There were golden archways adorned with white roses leading to the altar, and the aisle looked as though it was paved in pure gold. It was absolutely enchanting, like something out of a fairytale. This was a wedding fit for a princess. Too bad the bride was such a wicked witch. Hermione still held a grudge for the whole dress debacle. Fleur had outsmarted her, and Hermione was not happy about it. Or about the fucking dress either.

About a hundred people or so sat in golden chairs with their backs to Hermione. Unconsciously, she searched the guests for the bane of her existence and immediately found him thankfully still disguised as Viktor Krum. It was going to really suck having to look at her jerk of an ex-boyfriend all night long, but she figured looking at Malfoy's normal ferret face wouldn’t be much of an improvement. If any. Alright, so maybe he was kind of hot. If you liked the arrogant prick who only lived to ruin your life kind of guy, which Hermione did not. Most of the time. Shit. That stupid crown was really fucking with her.

Hermione noticed that Malfoy was seated next to Auntie Muriel in the front row, and she felt her lips form into a smirk. Fred and George, the ushers, had obviously seated him next to their cranky aunt to torture him and their crazy aunt, for that matter. Auntie Muriel was a horrid old witch who hated everything and everyone, but for some reason, she especially hated Viktor Krum. She never had a good thing to say about him, and she wasn't afraid to say it to his face. 

Viktor rarely came to Weasley events if he could help it and for good reason. In fact, Auntie Muriel was probably the reason that he was so quick to leave the wedding in the first place. Spending time with his supposed whore of an ex-girlfriend was nothing compared with having to endure Auntie Muriel. At the moment, she was talking animatedly to Malfoy and was waving her wand about for emphasis. Malfoy, being the typical brave Slytherin that he was, was leaning back as far away from her as he possibly could without actually sticking his head in Molly Weasley's chest. If Malfoy wasn’t such a prick, she would have felt sorry for him. Well, maybe she would have if it wasn't so damn amusing.

As her eyes roamed over the scene in the garden, Hermione spotted Ron waiting for her at the beginning of the aisle. He was her partner for the wedding, and he looked about as nervous as she felt. He was tapping his foot, impatient to get the whole thing over with, so he could relax and enjoy the rest of the evening. Ron didn't like getting dressed up even though he did finally have decent dress robes now thanks to Fred and George. Hermione had been a bit surprised when the twins had bought the new robes for Ron as they had had such a good time making fun of his old ones. Maybe they weren't as evil as she thought they were. Well, anything was possible in the Wizarding World. All it took was one easy charm, and you could have pigs flying all over the place. 

It was almost time for the wedding to begin, and her nerves were starting to get to her. As she was Fleur’s last choice as a bridesmaid, she had the honor of walking down the aisle first and her Gryffindor bravery was starting to fail her. Her body involuntarily let out a little shiver. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was nervous about being seen in her slutty bridesmaid dress or just because the dress was so damn drafty. Before she could contemplate that further, the music started, and Hermione took a deep breath. She felt Ginny squeeze her hand and whisper, “Good luck.”

Hermione turned to her friend gratefully. “Thanks Ginny. I really needed that.”

Ginny smirked. “Well, you’re going to need it. When Fred sees you in that dress, there is no way you’re winning our little bet. You’ll be lucky if he waits until the ceremony is over to rip it off of you.”

“I can only hope the baldness that ensues will be a real turn off,” said Hermione sarcastically, referring to her cursed bridesmaid dress that would supposedly make her hair fall out if she took it off too soon.

“I doubt it, but it doesn’t matter anyway. It will be too late. I will have already won the bet. Because stripping you of your clothing definitely counts as him putting the moves on you.”

Hermione groaned. She had a horrible feeling that it was quite likely she was going to lose their stupid little bet, and she greatly feared what Ginny would put her through. ”Oh God, Ginny. Please don’t make me say anything too horrible.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t make you say anything I wouldn’t say,” replied Ginny, smiling brightly.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said Hermione with a sigh.

“Get out there,” said Ginny, giving her a little shove. They’re waiting for you.”

“You're right. I shouldn’t keep all of the guests waiting. That would be rude,” said Hermione, trying to summon up the courage to start walking down the aisle. However, her feet just wouldn't seem to move.

“The guests? Oh yeah, them too. But I was talking about all of your boy toys.”

“I don’t have any boy toys,” said Hermione indignantly.

Ginny responded by raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, shut up, Ginny,” said Hermione angrily, throwing open the door and hitting Fred or maybe it was George right in the face. 

“Ow, fuck, Hermione. I just got rid of the black eye Ron gave me. Are you trying to give me another?” asked Fred, holding a hand to his head.

“Wow, Hermione you look fucking hot,” said George, shoving Fred out of the way. 

“Hey!” said Fred indignantly. “Stop ogling my future girlfriend. You do look hot though, Hermione. All three of you.”

“So,” said George, putting an arm around Hermione. “Want to ditch this wedding and go have a shag in Percy’s room?”

“Why Percy’s room?” asked Hermione, narrowing her eyes.

“Why not Percy’s room?” asked George with a shrug.

“No time for shagging unless you’re interested in a quickie with yours truly in my parents’ room. What?” asked Fred in response to Hermione’s look of disgust. “It would be exciting trying not to get caught.”

Ginny cleared her throat. “Much as I would love watching you two butt holes get shot down, we do have a wedding to get over with.”

“Oh, hey Gin, didn’t see you standing there,” said Fred still looking at Hermione.

“Obviously,” said Ginny dryly.

George looked over at Ginny and burst out laughing. “Nice dress, Gin. It reminds me of that long ass book we had to read in Muggle Studies.”

“Gone with the Wind,” supplied Hermione.

“Yeah, Gone with the Wind gone very, very bad.” George laughed. “It looks like someone threw up ruffles all over you. And that fucking hat is as good as a chastity belt. It’s good to know I don’t have to worry about you getting laid tonight. It’s exhausting having to play the overprotective older brother when I have much more interesting things to do, such as your sexy little friend here.”

Ginny glared over at George. “If Hermione is going to do either of you, it is going to be Fred.”

“Why Fred?” asked George indignantly. “I’m just as good looking as he is, and I have a much better personality.”

“It is going to be Fred because the thought of making out with Neville makes me nauseous. That’s why.”

“Well, the thought of making out with Neville makes me nauseous too,” muttered George.

“Sure it does, old boy,” said Fred, patting him hard on the back. “Looks like Hermione is going to be all mine. The fates seem to be aligned on my side.”

“I don't know about the fates, but the bitches sure are,” grumbled George.

“Did I ever tell you that you’re my favorite sister?” asked Fred, putting an arm around Ginny. “And don’t listen to George. The bonnet is kind of hot. You might even get lucky and get groped by one of our drunken cousins.”

“Shove off, Fred,” said Ginny, pushing him away from her. 

“Oh, let me guess,” said Fred. “You're saving yourself for Harry, the boy wonder.”

“Might as well go for one of our drunken cousins, Gin,” piped up George. “The only way you're going to get any action from Harry is if you turn Death Eater.”

“Don't tempt me, George,” replied Ginny, glaring at her older brother.

“Fred started it,” protested George.

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Would you two shut up already,” fumed Ginny. “Aren't you supposed to be out there, you know, ushering or something?”

Fleur called down angrily from upstairs, “Fred and George, Get your asses out zere now, so I can marry your fucking brother!”

“Don't know what Bill sees in her,” muttered Fred. “She's such a hag.”

“I 'eard zat,” yelled Fleur. “I am not an 'ag”

“I said you were a right good shag!” yelled Fred.

“Oh, sorry George,” shouted Fleur.

“It's Fred!”

“Whatever! Get ze fuck out zere! I do not need zees sheet on my wedding day. I am coming whether you are ready or not!”

“Cumming,” snickered George.

“Oh, sheeta” cursed Fred, imitating Fleur quite poorly. “Come on George, we still have a lot of work to do.”

“Quite right. On with the show,” replied George.

“What are you two imbeciles talking about?” asked Ginny suspiciously. “You're just ushers. What else could you possibly have to do? Everyone is already seated.”

“Our little project has nothing to do with ushering. I'm quite sure all of those lazy asses know how to sit down just fine without our help,” said Fred snidely.

“This is about our wedding present for Fleur,” offered George.

“We're giving her a wedding to remember.” Fred smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” said Ginny, putting her hands on her hips and looking very much like her mother. “I'm not suffering Fleur's wrath because of you two 'sheet 'eads'.”

“Ooh, that was good, Gin,” praised George. “Much better than Fred's imitation of Fleur. His sounded kind of Swedish.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Never mind,” said Ginny. “Just get out there and don't embarrass the family too much.”

“You should talk,” said Fred.

“Honestly,” added George. “I don't know what could be more embarrassing than what you're wearing.”

“Except maybe what Hermione is wearing,” said Fred, looking over at Hermione smiling mischievously. “Or not wearing.”

“Leave me out of this,” said Hermione, scowling back at him.

“Sorry, can't do that,” said Fred.

“Nope. You're part of the show,” said George.

“And you know what they say...”

“The show must go on.”

Hermione watched them walk out the door to do whatever they were going to do that was probably going to ruin her life. “I'm doomed,” she moaned.

“We all are,” said Ginny grimly. “Let's just get this over with. How fast can you walk?”

Hermione opened the door and stepped out into the garden. All eyes turned on her. There was no turning back now. She could hear Fred and George whistling and making catcalls and then she heard their mother shushing them. Hopefully, Mrs. Weasley could keep them in line. With her head held high, she walked toward Ron giving him a nervous smile. Not that he noticed or anything, his eyes were elsewhere. She cleared her throat to get his attention, but his eyes were still glued to her chest. She gently lifted his chin until his eyes looked into hers and then linked her arm with his. 

“Really, Ron,” she scolded. “Let’s just get this over with.” And then it happened.

The music started playing a completely different tune. And it was about as far from the traditional Wedding March as was wizardly possible. Hermione could feel herself start to blush as she stood there paralyzed by shock listening to the stripper music now being played by the six piece orchestra. Hermione glared at the twins but instead of hexing them decided to take Ginny's advice and walk down the aisle as fast as her stiletto heels would carry her without breaking her neck. Unfortunately, as soon as Hermione took a step, she felt this odd compulsion to bump. And grind. All the way up the aisle. 

And to her humiliation, she did just that with Ron trailing after her like a puppy dog in heat. She shimmied and shook what her mother gave her all the way to the altar. Strutting onto the altar as though it were a stage, Hermione swayed to the music and started loosening the fingers of one of her long gold gloves. Sliding it off, she whipped it in circles around her head before throwing it in Malfoy's shocked face. She was about to continue on with her little striptease when she heard a throat clearing behind her. The spell broken, Hermione sent an apologetic look to the wizard priest behind her and quickly found her appropriate place to stand. Her face was burning from shame, and she could have killed Fred and George, who were practically rolling in the aisle laughing, the stupid perverts. Hermione covertly glanced over at Malfoy. He looked as though someone had sent a Stunning Spell his way. And she wouldn’t really put it past Fred and George, but then she saw his lips move, and she could have sworn he said, “Holy shit.”

Ginny walked down the aisle next with Percy (everything was forgiven for the most part when he admitted to being a prat for not believing Voldemort was back). Hermione could hear Ginny’s brothers snickering about her God-awful dress. Her wide hoop skirt kept bumping into Percy making him stumble and even caused him to fall onto some old lady's lap. The blue haired witch whispered something to him that made his ears turn pink. Fred and George took pity on their brother as he was getting quite battered and bruised by Ginny's dress and cast a spell to encase Ginny and her enormous dress in a giant bubble. Percy looked grateful as he rolled Ginny the rest of the way down the aisle accidentally exposing her frilly pantalettes that matched her old-fashioned dress. Ginny was obviously cursing up a storm, but it was difficult to hear her as no one had thought to remove the bubble charm.

Gabrielle walked down the aisle next with Charlie, looking rather confused by the butterflies and birds that were flying around her and more than a little fearful of the deer that she finally noticed trailing behind her. Gabrielle looked very pretty and fit in very well with the fairytale theme of the wedding but after Hermione and Ginny, she was rather boring. 

Finally, Fleur began her regal descent down the aisle. She looked absolutely beautiful. Her pale blond hair was held up in elegant coils on top of her head, and Auntie Muriel’s Goblin-made tiara made her look like a fairytale princess. Her white, strapless, crystal studded dress was very fitted and ended in a long train that fanned out behind her. She was simply breathtaking. However, despite Fleur’s earlier claims, several pairs of eyes were still focused only on Hermione and one pair belonged to none other than the self-proclaimed Slytherin prince himself, Draco Malfoy. She could feel his eyes boring into her back, well perhaps somewhat lower. Damn backless dress. Of course, the striptease probably hadn't helped matters.

Hermione didn't like Malfoy staring at her like that. It was ... different. She was used to his glares and looks of contempt. She was even used to his stupid fucking smirk. This look of well, desire or whatever the fuck it was, was completely unacceptable. So, she turned around and outright stared at him, calling him out on his behavior. When his eyes slowly looked up and met hers, she stuck her tongue out at him. Yes, very immature but highly effective. The familiar scowl returned to his face and all was right with the world again. Well, for a little bit at least. And then all hell broke loose.


	35. Wedding Wackiness

Hermione sent Malfoy a smirk and then returned her attention back to Fleur, who was elegantly gliding down the aisle like the perfect bride she was. That is until she suddenly stopped cold and started to shake. Everyone gasped in concern, and Bill started to walk toward her, but George Weasley held up his hand and took charge of the situation. He walked purposefully over to Fleur, addressing the guests as he went. “Don't worry everyone. I have seen this before. It's a simple case of the pre-wedding jitters.”

Standing in front of Fleur smirking, he casually asked, “What's the matter, Fleur? Got the jitter... bug?

“Take eet off, you fucking bastard! Take theese 'orrible spell off of me,” shrieked Fleur, completely appalled by the situation she was now in. 

George just smiled even wider. He gave her a low bow and held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

“I 'ate you,” said Fleur angrily but never the less took his outstretched hand.

“I am rather delicious,” said George, winking at her and then giving her a spin. Fleur grudgingly gave into the dance and soon they were performing a fantastic jitterbug. Legs kicking, arms flying, they bounced up and down the aisle to the beat of the music. George flipped her over his back and turned and pulled her through his legs in an impressive move that caused the audience to gasp once again. He swung her legs to one side of him then the other and then lifted her up so her legs kicked high above his head, showing off her something blue, and causing Hermione to grumble about Fleur getting to wear her knickers. Then from her inverted position up in the air, George swept Fleur dramatically between his legs and while she lay on the floor fuming, George did a little dance over her. Evil or not, the boy had moves. 

Bill finally taking pity on his future wife, walked over and tapped George on the shoulder. However, instead of punching him out like he should have, Bill simply asked, “ May I cut in?” Then in an extremely romantic gesture, Bill took Fleur's hand, whispered a few words in her ear and then waltzed her up to the altar. He ended their special dance with a low dip and kiss. The wedding guests erupted into thunderous applause. George took an excessive amount of bows and after Bill whispered in her ear, Fleur grudgingly played along and gave an elegant curtsy.

The wizard priest motioned for everyone to be seated and a collective fart could be heard throughout the garden. The twins had put whoopee cushions on all of the guests chairs with a permanent sticking charm. Fleur gritted her teeth and Fred and George snickered in the background. Just as they were about to start the ceremony again, a flock of doves approached carrying a wreath of roses in their beaks. The birds flew gracefully down the aisle and gently placed the wreath on the altar. Hermione thought this gesture was highly romantic but noticed Fleur looking inquiringly at Bill and him slowly shaking his head. Hermione figured it must be a wedding gift for the happy couple. 

The birds circled high above them in a heart formation. It was really quite lovely. That is until the birds started dive bombing the guests. Everyone was shrieking and covering their heads. It was mass chaos. One landed on Auntie Muriel's head and was trying to build a nest and one flew up Hermione's dress in a most uncomfortable manner making her dance once again. 

Malfoy was laughing hysterically at her until one pooped on his head, and then he started throwing a tantrum. “My hair! My hair!”

Harry took pity on him and handed him his handkerchief wondering briefly why Viktor was acting very much like Malfoy. Then proving his worth as a hero, he heroically stuck his hand up Hermione's dress and red faced removed the offending bird.

“Thanks Harry,” said Hermione, slightly embarrassed.

“Anytime,” said Harry. Then thinking about what he just said, turned an even brighter shade of red. “Not that I'll be sticking my hand up your dress ever again. I mean, I will if I have to of course. I'm not against it or anything. It wasn't all that horrible. I just didn't mean to say that I would be doing that anytime I wanted to. Not that I do want to. It's not like I am planning to stick my hand up your dress again. Not that there is anything wrong with it. I just ...” 

“Shut up, Harry.”

Bill looked over at the twins and shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. He was quite fond of his brothers despite the fact that they were currently infuriating his future wife. With a flick of his wand the birds were gone and peace was restored. Everyone eventually settled down returning to their seats, completely forgetting about the whoopee cushions in all of the chaos. So, with some very loud farting sounds the ceremony began. 

“We are here today because this wizard and this witch ...” began the wizard priest just before he slapped Fleur right in the head. 

Everyone waited breathlessly for Fleur to start throwing curses at him, as she wasn't known for holding her temper, but instead she started waving her arms about and running around in circles like a crazy person. Hermione looked a little closer and noticed something gold swarming around Fleur. Suddenly, there were all sorts of golden winged creatures, and they were swarming over the entire wedding. People ducked for cover or swatted at them with their programs.

Hermione finally got a good look at one when she pulled it out of her cleavage and was quite surprised to see it was a Cornish Pixie spray painted gold. She held it up for Harry and Ron to see and grinning at each other, they all pointed their wands upward and said the spell they had learned through experience in Lockhart's class second year. Fred and George looked slightly disappointed that their fun was over so soon, but the golden pixies looked rather lovely suspended above their heads. Everyone looked expectantly at Fleur as she drew her wand and pointed it at the twins. The excitement in the air was tangible as Fleur fired off a spell that pretty much told everyone exactly what she thought of her soon to be brother in-laws. When Ginny saw what Fleur had done to Fred and George, she started laughing so hard she rolled back down the aisle, and Percy had to go chasing after her.

“I 'ave 'ad enough of your sheet. You two asses better stop ruining my wedding, or you will be very sorry indeed,” said Fleur angrily.

“He-haw did it,” said George tilting his head along with his brand new pair of donkey ears toward Fred. “It was Fred's idea, not mine.”

“He-haw helped, but I don't see what you're complaining about anyway,” said Fred, swinging his tail around quite unconcerned. “We matched your color scheme.”

Fleur gave out an unladylike-like huff and turned back around. Once again the wizard priest motioned for everyone to sit down. And once again the sweet sound of a hundred or so farts filled the air. Although this time, it was prolonged as some of the ladies were trying to sit down slowly so as not to make the farting noise. Of course to their chagrin, it only resulted in a louder longer fart and in some unfortunate cases an odd whistling sound. The wizard priest cleared his throat and began yet again.

Wizard weddings were very much like Muggle weddings in that they were also long and boring. It was so boring, in fact, that Hermione almost wished that Fred and George would get off their asses and do something about it. Asses. Ha! That little spell was almost enough to earn Fleur her forgiveness. Almost. The excitement seemingly forgotten, the wizard priest droned on and on about love and commitment and who knows what else. Hermione soon tuned him out because no one who had recently broken up with their boyfriend really wanted to hear about such tripe. Hermione was feeling quite cynical about love at the moment and the only real possibility she saw of commitment in her near future involved a trip to St. Mungo's. 

Hermione noticed that everyone started to kneel and so she did the same. As she got down on her knees, she heard snickering behind her and turned around to see Fred and George (looking like the asses they were) making rude hand gestures to her that reminded her of things best forgotten. She glared at them and turned back around, determined to not look at Malfoy who she hoped was not reminiscing about anything in particular at the moment. With any luck, it would blow over soon. No pun intended. As Hermione was busy looking at anything but Malfoy, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Something was written on the bottom of Bill's shoes. She leaned forward a bit and read the word, 'sucker'.

Discreetly, she took her wand out and used a Vanishing Spell on it. The writing quickly disappeared, and Hermione congratulated herself for her quick thinking, as most of the guests probably hadn't even noticed it yet. She turned around to send a triumphant smirk over to the twins but was disconcerted to see them doubled over laughing and pointing at her. Her eyes narrowed and trying not to draw too much attention to herself, she casually looked down behind her. She was extremely displeased at what she found to say the very least. The word 'sucker' was now written across her ass, and it was written big enough that they could probably read it from the back row. Hermione wasn't sure what was worse. What the word implied or that it could be written that big across her ass.

She should have left well enough alone. It was one thing to have the word 'sucker' written on Bill's shoes, but it was quite another to have it written across her ass. Hermione quickly said the Vanishing Spell she used on Bill. However, instead of vanishing it, the word 'sucker' was now neon green. Hermione tried another spell, and it started flashing obnoxiously. She tried another only to add an arrow. Several guests were outright laughing now. Against her better judgment, she looked over at Malfoy and was quite peeved to see he had the gall to smirk about the whole thing. Auntie Muriel was even cracking a smile even though she was trying to look disapproving. 

Hermione knew she should probably just flee the wedding, but she was nothing if not determined. It was just who she was, and she was going to solve this little problem if it killed her. And well if she hadn't died of embarrassment yet, she probably wasn't going to. She tried an invisibility spell and was quite pleased when the word immediately disappeared. Of course, the pleasure was short lived when she heard the hissing sound that was now coming from her ass. She watched in morbid fascination as the letter 's' began to write itself out quickly followed by the rest of the word in a written and verbal format. “Ssssssucker.”

Fuck. Those nasty horrible twins had added a fucking audio spell to it. The word 'sucker' kept writing out across her ass over and over again accompanied by the embarrassing announcement that she was a sucker. And if that wasn't bad enough, each time the word was respelled, the voice got louder. By now the ceremony had stopped, as most of the guests were laughing and the wizard priest was unable to continue because of all the commotion. Fleur was quite unfairly sending her a death glare for stopping the ceremony. As if she wanted it announced at the wedding that she was indeed a sucker. 

Hermione was about to give up when she thought of a little known Banishing Spell she had found when researching spells to use on Malfoy. She might as well try it out as she didn't really have anything to lose. The worse that could happen now would be that the spell would somehow inform everyone that she swallowed as well. Perhaps it could be written across her chest. So, in a last ditch effort, she said the spell, and the word thankfully vanished leaving behind a blissful silence apart from all of the laughter, of course. Hermione calmly smoothed out her dress and turned back to the ceremony as though nothing had just happened. She was sorely tempted to turn her wand on the twins, however, it wouldn't do to kill the groom's brothers on his wedding day. Too many witnesses. She could wait until they came to Grimmauld Place. It would be easier to hide the bodies and perhaps Malfoy might even help with the digging. 

The wizard priest, looking more than a little annoyed, decided to skip to the end and said in a resigned voice, “Is there anyone here who thinks these two should not become husband and wife? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Hermione heard gasps coming from behind her and turned around to see Malfoy standing up with a look of horror on his face. Everyone stared at him expectantly waiting for what he could possibly have to say to keep Fleur from marrying Bill. Perhaps there was some secret love affair between Fleur and Viktor Krum. Malfoy looked rather conflicted about the whole thing but never the less he opened his mouth. What came out of Malfoy's mouth and what he did following left Hermione completely stunned and was quickly followed by a severe case of the giggles.

“Hmmmmmm,” Malfoy hummed loudly, outstretching his arms, one high and one low, with jazz hands. Yes, he had fucking jazz hands.

Percy back from retrieving Ginny started harmonizing with him. Harry and Ron who were laughing loudly at the scene soon found themselves joining in to complete the quartet. The barbershop quartet. Complete with straw hats and striped jackets, they sang some goofy love song a cappella and even did a cute little dance with it. And yes, they all had fucking jazz hands. It ended with Ron down on his knees, hitting the low note. It was very festive.

By now the wizard priest was running his hands through his hair and had a defeated look on his face. With a sigh, he said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” And with that, Fred and George completed their duty as ushers by releasing the golden Snitches. The snitches, obviously bewitched, moved into formation spelling out the words 'Wedding Wackiness brought to you by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' and then appropriately disappeared quick as a Snitch, leaving behind an elaborate firework display. Everyone stood up and cheered. 

Just as Fleur was about to hex the twins, the wizard priest said, “You may now kiss the bride.” 

And Bill did. It was the perfect ending to a perfectly wacky wedding. That is until Hermione found herself being kissed. And quite thoroughly at that. By a fucking Weasley twin!


	36. Snogged Silly

Oh God. She was being kissed by a Weasley twin and enjoying it. This was not good. Well, it was good, but it was also very, very bad. What if it was Fred that was kissing her right now? If it was Fred, she was fucked one way or the other. Ginny would be merciless with their stupid little bet. Hermione would soon find herself having to say things like, “Gee Ron, you make my nipples hard,” or “Hey Percy, want me to blow your mind and your dick?” The possibilities were truly endless. Ginny was a sadistic, little bitch. 

Her brother, whichever one it was, sure was a good kisser though. Hermione soon found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss the other twin as well. Or better yet, what it would be like to be in the middle of a Fred and George sandwich. Yum! However, before she could get too carried away with her little double the pleasure, double the fun fantasy, she felt herself violently ripped away from the attentive lips of the kissing twin and into the arms of her very angry ex-boyfriend.

“Viktor?” she asked in complete confusion as a result of her post-kissing stupor.

Malfoy rolled his eyes at her and pulled her aside roughly. He leaned in close and hissed in her ear so no one else could hear. “I vish I vas Viktor. I'd be off shagging some other girl about now instead of haffing to put up vith your shit.”

“Oh, it's you,” said Hermione sourly, gathering her wits about her. She'd have thought she would have learned her lesson after the last Polyjuice mix-up. There should be some sort of warning in the directions. Caution: May result in confusion and accidental blowing of the wrong guy.

“Of course, it's me. Now, quit fucking around vith that Veasel idiot. You are making me look bad.”

“Yes, and I wouldn't want to do that, would I?” asked Hermione sarcastically. “If you want to save face, Malfoy, why don't you just challenge him to a duel. Maybe I'll get lucky, and you will both kill each other and save me the bother. Oops! I forgot you don't have a real wand. Well, at least there would be one less prick in my life anyway.”

“This vas your fucking plan. Do you vant everyone to think I'm your boyfriend or not? Because if you are going to keep going around snogging every bloke in sight, you are going to completely screw it up.”

“I am not snogging everyone in sight,” exclaimed Hermione. “It was just one Weasley twin. I have no idea which one. And he snogged me!”

“Vell, you veren't putting up much of a fight, vere you? Just remember that for tonight at least, you are mine!” said Malfoy possessively. He grabbed Hermione's hand and sent one last glare at the offending Weasley twin before he started dragging her away.”

“But I didn't even get to find out which one it was,” protested Hermione, feeling quite odd to be holding Malfoy's hand.

“Like it really matters,” replied Malfoy crossly. 

“It matters to me,” grumbled Hermione, thinking about her stupid bet with Ginny.

Malfoy stopped suddenly, causing Hermione to run into him. “Do you actually like one of those dufuses?”

“No,” said Hermione quickly.

“Then vhy does it matter so much?”

For some reason, Hermione was quite aware that Malfoy was still holding her hand, and it made it difficult to think clearly. “It just does. And before you ask, it is none of your business.”

“Fine,” he huffed.

Leading her by the hand, Malfoy silently walked her toward an enormous golden canopy that had been set up for the reception. Tables with crisp white table cloths, generously sprinkled with pale pink rose petals and golden fairy dust, formed a circle around an area set up for dancing. When they reached their assigned table, Malfoy finally let go of her hand. Hermione noticed a strange tingling sensation in that particular hand but was in absolute denial about it meaning anything. Malfoy had probably just been holding her hand too tightly. Or perhaps, she was having a stroke. She really wouldn't be surprised after everything she had been through recently.

Harry, Ron and a bubble-free Ginny were already seated at the table. Ron didn't even wait for them to sit down before he asked, “What were you doing kissing George?”

“Oh, was that George?” asked Hermione, clearly relieved and sending a quick smirk over to Ginny. “I don't know. He was just joking around I guess. Caught me by surprise, or I would have hexed him.”

Ron seemed mollified by this response, but Hermione noticed that Malfoy had narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He obviously didn't believe her. Well, too fucking bad. Hermione wished Malfoy would just mind his own business. What did he care if she kissed a Weasley twin? It didn't hurt anybody, particularly since it was just George. He was relatively harmless. And besides, she was a free woman now. She could kiss whoever she damn well pleased. 

Hermione felt someone's eyes on her, which wasn't necessarily odd considering the get up she was wearing, but what was strange was the color of the eyes that were now boring into her. They were green. And they belonged to her best friend. She met Harry's eyes and raised her eyebrows at him. Harry looked uncomfortable at being caught staring, but he cleared his throat and asked, “Are you cold, Hermione?”

Panic crossed her face. “No, no! I feel fine,” said Hermione quickly, thinking of her stupid hexed dress. She grabbed onto the tablecloth just in case Harry got any funny ideas. She did not want to lose her hair.

“Are you sure you're not cold because...” began Harry, glancing down at the tablecloth.

I'm not cold, Harry,” snapped Hermione. 

“I just thought you might be cold since your dress is almost nonexistence,” went on Harry determinedly.

Hermione's eyes widened. How dare he be mad at her for being forced to wear some stupid bridesmaid dress. “It is not nonexistent. I am not cold. And I would appreciate it if you would stop gawking at me!”

“Maybe everyone would stop gawking at you if you put on some clothes,” said Harry, grabbing onto the tablecloth.

Hermione was stunned. Harry was acting like… well, Ron, who was being unusually quiet at the moment. She looked over at Ron and caught him staring at her chest, yet again. She pursed her lips together in exasperation and said, “Yes, Ron. I am a girl.” 

Malfoy snorted at that, but one look from Hermione quickly silenced him. After all, his reaction hadn't been all that much different.

“What?” asked Ron, looking up slightly flustered. “I like the dress.” 

“Of course, he likes it,” said Harry, giving the tablecloth a slight tug. “He has no imagination and with that dress he doesn't need one.”

“Well, who could have imagined she was hiding that under her robes,” said Ron in self-defense, motioning to her chest.

“Would you two stop talking about me like that. It's weird,” said Hermione, wishing she could cover herself up with her hands but not willing to let go of the tablecloth.

“Well, seeing you in a dress like that is weird,” said Harry, trying even harder to get the tablecloth away from Hermione, who was now holding onto it like her life depended on it. “You look... different.”

“Harry,” began Hermione as though she were talking to a little boy because he certainly was acting like one. “I am different. I'm not the same bushy-haired, eleven year-old girl you saved from that troll first year. Perhaps, you haven't noticed until now, but I've grown up a bit since then.”

“Same bushy hair though,” said Malfoy under his breath.

Hermione glared at Malfoy but continued trying to reason with Harry. “I can take care of myself. I don't need a big brother to look after me.”

“I don't think he's feeling particularly brotherly right now,” sneered Malfoy.

“Someone has to protect you, Hermione,” said Harry, ignoring 'Viktor' and not giving up on the tablecloth. “You don't understand the kind of things guys are thinking about when they see you in a dress like that.”

“Oh, and you do?”

“Yes.”

“So, what are you thinking right now, Harry?” asked Hermione pointedly.

“Yes, what are you thinking?” asked Ginny, narrowing her eyes.

“I, uh...” stammered Harry. “I wasn't thinking that!”

“Good,” said Hermione. “Then I won't have to hex you. Now, drop the tablecloth.”

“You don't have to wear the tablecloth, Hermione,” pleaded Harry. “We could transfigure it into a shawl or maybe a nice turtleneck sweater.”

“I said, drop it!”

“No,” said Harry determinedly, tugging even harder.

“Yes,” said Hermione, tugging back. 

And with that, war broke out. Well, a tug of war anyway. The line was drawn. Sides were chosen. Ginny was of course on Harry's side. Hermione was her friend, but Harry was the love of her life. Besides, she had seen the way Harry was looking at Hermione and thought a bald Hermione might not be such a bad thing. Ron kept switching sides. He was definitely rooting for Hermione because she looked hot in that dress, and he didn't want her covered up in some stupid tablecloth. However, he could see down Hermione's dress much better from Harry's side. And Malfoy, well, he was bloody Switzerland.

“Harry James Potter, if you don't let go of this tablecloth right now, I'm going to...”

“Wear it,” finished Harry, yanking the tablecloth so hard that he brought Hermione with it. She was now sprawled across the table on her stomach and about to lose the war. And apparently her hair.

Hermione glared back at Malfoy. “A real boyfriend would be helping his girlfriend about now.”

“Vhat? Oh, right,” said Malfoy, remembering that he was supposed to be her boyfriend and be supportive and all that shit. However, looking at Hermione's backside, he hesitated slightly because he couldn't quite decide where to put his hands. It was quite the tricky situation. No matter where he put them, he was going to be touching skin. And he wasn't sure that was such a good idea. In fact, he was pretty sure it wasn't.

“Just grab my ass and pull!” yelled Hermione.

And so he did. Malfoy pulled so hard, he fell backward landing hard on his ass, bringing Hermione down with him. In his triumph at finally beating Harry at something, he exclaimed “Ha! I von, Potter. You veak ass son of a bitch.” 

Then he noticed, mostly thanks to little Draco, that Hermione was now sitting on his lap. They shared a brief awkward moment before they were thankfully or not so thankfully interrupted.

“Why don't you two get a room?” said George, looking down at them with his arms crossed.

“Better yet, Hermione. Why don't you ditch your 'boyfriend' there, and we can get a room together,” said Fred, raising his eyebrows up and down. “I do believe my parents' room is unoccupied at the moment.”

Malfoy scowled at the twins and then rudely pushed Hermione off of him, causing her to fall in a not so graceful heap to the ground. He got into the twins' faces brandishing his fake wand menacingly. “Stay away from her. No rooms. No kissing. No anything. And if you ever make me fucking sing again, you vill be very, very sorry.”

“If you're trying to make us shit in our pants just so you can give us a pair of replacement underpants, it's not working,” said Fred offhandedly.

“You underestimate my creativity. I know more than just the one trick,” threatened Malfoy. “I know exactly vhat to do vith this vand, or should I say vhere to put it.”

“Well, I guess we'd have to take Hermione's word on that,” said George jokingly.

“What say you, Hermione? Does he really know the 'ins and outs' of using a wand?” asked Fred, smirking. “We know you do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” asked Ron, looking as though he was about ready to give Fred another black eye. “What do you think you know?”

Hermione turned red but stood her ground. “He doesn't know anything,” she said, looking as virginal as possible. Ron was better off being ignorant of certain things.

“But I will soon,” said Fred, giving her a suggestive look that gave her butterflies in her stomach. And a few Bludgers as well.

“I wouldn't bet on that if I were you,” said George, looking smugly at his twin, “but I guess it's too late now.”

Ron narrowed his eyes. “Hermione isn't interested in being involved in your petty little competitions. Leave her alone.”

“Too late, dear brother. It's already begun, and I am in the lead,” said George with a hint of superiority. “I'm up by a kiss.”

“You mean that pathetic display, ve vere forced to vitness at the vedding,” said Malfoy, trying not to sound jealous but not quite achieving it.

George smirked at Malfoy. “I don't think Hermione thought it was so pathetic. Sorry if I made you jealous though. It must have been difficult watching some other guy slipping the tongue to the girl you fancy,” said George knowingly.

“I don't fancy her,” said Malfoy, gritting his teeth.

Hermione elbowed him in the gut. Hard. “You do too fancy me,” said Hermione angrily. “Boyfriends fancy their girlfriends, or have you forgotten that fact, Viktor?”

Malfoy had forgotten. Shit. He was so used to denying that he liked her that it was an automatic response now. Everyone was looking at him. Hermione angrily. The twins triumphantly. Ron hopefully. Harry curiously. And Ginny … well never mind. She was looking at Harry. 

“Tell them you fancy me,” said Hermione, getting angrier by the minute.

Of course, that was not something Malfoy could do. He absolutely refused to say those words aloud. It would be like he was admitting something that he didn't want to admit. Ever. He tried to think of something her dickhead of an ex-boyfriend would say. Something other than about Quidditch. “I don't fancy anyone. I am not some stupid school boy,” said Malfoy directly to the twins. “There vill be no more kissing because she is mine. She belongs to me.”

Wrong answer. And it made absolutely no difference to Hermione that he probably only said it because he was an idiot. She was absolutely furious. How chauvinistic could he get? Hermione Granger was no one's belonging. She was a strong, proud woman who was just about to say something in her anger that she was sure to regret. 

“You do not own me,” spat Hermione angrily. “I can kiss who I want when I want, and I do not need your permission to do it. Or to do anything else for that matter!”

“Excellent,” said George, rubbing his hands together.

“Don't worry, Krum” said Fred, smirking at the disgruntled Malfoy. “You're still welcome to join in our little competition, if you think you're man enough. But just so you know, you're little pregame performance doesn't count, which you have us to thank for by the way. Next time, you're on your own. If there even is a next time, which I doubt.”

“You two can have a go as well,” said George to Harry and Ron, “but I expect you'll be a little out of your league.”

Hermione sat down at the table and put her head in her hands. She did not deserve this shit. She wished she had her normal boring life back. Well, boring as in having to deal with only one evil Slytherin bastard. At least Voldemort wasn't trying to get into her pants. That she knew of anyway. Dinner finally arrived and everyone started eating in silence, wrapped up in their own fucked up thoughts.

“So,” began Fred after awhile because he found an awkward conversation preferable to silence. “What's up with the tablecloth? Did our favorite superhero decide he needed a cape?”

“No,” said Harry dejectedly. “I was going to use it to cover up Hermione.”

“Why would you want to do that?” asked Fred and George simultaneously.

“Because everyone is looking at her,” replied Harry.

“Well, of course they are,” said George. “Did you see her entrance?”

“And exit,” added Fred, grinning.

“See what I mean, Hermione?” said Harry pointedly. “Do you really want perverts like Fred and George ogling you all night?”

“Hey!” exclaimed Fred.

“We resemble that,” replied George.

“Of course, I don't, Harry,” said Hermione, glaring at the twins. “But I didn't pick this horrid dress out. It's not fair to blame me for something Fleur did or for how those two idiots are behaving for that matter.”

“I'm sorry, Hermione. You're right,” said Harry. “I shouldn't be so overprotective. I guess I was just caught off guard seeing you in a dress like that. I've never seen you look like this before.”

“At least she doesn't look like her,” said Malfoy, nodding at Ginny in her frumpy dress.

“Hey!” exclaimed Ginny angrily. “I didn't pick out my dress either. And Fleur hexed them, so we can't cover them up or take them off. So, Viktor, I guess that means you're out of luck tonight,” added Ginny snidely, quite affronted by his rude comment on her appearance.

“So, when can we take it off?” asked Fred worriedly. “This is really going to put a damper on our plans.”

“We could probably maneuver around it,” said George thoughtfully.

“Maneuvering. Brilliant,” said Fred.

“There will be no maneuvering. What are you two even doing here?” asked Hermione, clearly annoyed.

“This is our table,” said George as though it were obvious.

“No, I mean, why aren't you dead? I would have thought Fleur would have killed you by now and saved me the trouble.”

“Well,” began Fred, looking as though he were very clever indeed. “We may have slipped her a Cheering Charm-Calming Draught cocktail. Our special blend. She's feeling quite fine about now.” 

“Gave Mum one as well,” added George, snickering.

“I can't believe you slipped your mum a mickey,” reprimanded Hermione. “You two are are devious bastards. You cannot be trusted at all.”

“Well, I guess we can't all be as honorable and trustworthy as you are, Hermione,” said Fred mockingly. “You would never lie to anyone, would you? Especially your closest friends.”

Hermione glared at Fred. He was just trying to stir up trouble is all. She was well aware that honesty wasn't always necessarily the best policy, but she didn’t like having to keep secrets from Harry and Ron either. Well, it wasn’t the secrets so much, as it was them finding out about the secrets that was the big problem. The truth always had a funny way of coming out no matter how hard you tried to stop it. Especially when the truth was in the hands of two evil twins. 

Harry and Ron would not be happy finding out second hand that she had been fraternizing with the enemy. Of course, it wouldn't go over so well first hand either. There was really no good way to tell two die hard Gryffindors that you had shagged a Slytherin and that you were lusting after another Slytherin that you were currently shacking up with. Shit! Did she just think that? Was she really lusting after Malfoy? Fucking diadem.

“So, Hermione,” said Ron, slightly suspicious after what Fred had just said. “You never really told us what you've been up to this summer. Have anything you would like to confess?”

“Well,” began Hermione, not sure exactly what to say to this until she saw Malfoy smirking. “I shagged Goyle.”

Malfoy had just taken a drink of pumpkin juice and ended up spitting it across the table. Hermione smirked at him.

“Bloody hell. Watch it, Krum. You just spit pumpkin juice all over my brand new dress robes,” said Ron angrily. “She’s only joking. Who would shag fucking Goyle?”

Hermione waited until Malfoy had taken a big mouthful of food and then said, “I did. Three times.” Malfoy started choking on his steak. Harry rushed over to Malfoy to help. Circling his arms around him in a big bear hug from behind, Harry started giving him the Heimlich, squeezing him so hard he lifted him off the ground. Malfoy unaware of this Muggle life-saving technique was not grateful. At all.

“Get your fucking hands off me, Potter,” hissed Malfoy, pushing Harry away.

“Leave Harry alone,” scolded Hermione. “He was just saving your bloody life is all.”

“And vhy vould you vant him to do that?” spat Malfoy.

“I wouldn't,” huffed Hermione, “but Harrry can't help it if he feels like he has to save the world, even stupid pricks like you.”

“Aww. Trouble in paradise?” asked Fred.

Ron saw his chance. He quickly downed his drink and then before he lost his courage, he asked, “Would you like to dance, Hermione?”

Hermione was surprised by his offer, as Ron wasn't usually one for dancing, but she smiled and said, “I'd love to.”

“Ron took her hand and whirled her onto the dance floor. Hermione giggled. “You've been practicing.”

“A bit,” replied Ron sheepishly. “Fleur's been teaching me. Something about me not ruining the wedding.”

“Well, she should have been worried about your two evil brothers, not you. Serves her right.”

“Yeah, that was some wedding,” said Ron, looking at her chest again as they gently swayed to the music.

“Well, it certainly was memorable,” Hermione replied.

“I only remember one thing,” said Ron, looking up into her eyes.

“What?” asked Hermione. “Fred and George looking like asses?”

“No, you.”

“Oh,” replied Hermione, not knowing quite what to say to that.

“You look beautiful, Hermione,” said Ron, twirling her and then bringing her in closer so that their bodies were touching.

“Ron,” began Hermione, but he held a finger up to her lips to quiet her.

“Hermione, please don't say anything right now. I've been wanting to do this for a very long time, and I finally feel like I have the courage to go through with it.”

Hermione bit her lip and found herself preparing herself for their long awaited first kiss. She had been thinking about this moment for quite sometime, ever since she knew Ron really, but now that it was finally here, she wasn't sure if she wanted Ron to kiss her or not. Of course, she really needn't have worried herself so much because instead of kissing her, Ron did something quite unexpected.

“Ron!” she admonished, looking down in shock at his hand which was now squeezing her right boob. “What do you think you are doing!”

“Uh,” began Ron, looking embarrassed but still not releasing her from his grasp.

“This is what you've been wanting to do for a long time? This is what you finally found the courage to do?” exclaimed Hermione angrily, starting to get slightly hysterical. “You wanted to feel me up at your brother's wedding reception! In front of your parents and every single one of your relatives! Are you insane!”

Ron cringed while he listened to her yell at him. His ears turned as red as his hair, and the bright color quickly spread to his face. “Yes?”

Hermione was still fuming when she felt something brush gently across her breast making her feel tingly all over. She looked down to see Malfoy's wand pry off Ron's hand from her chest and then go directly to his throat. 

“I think it is time for me to cut in, Veasel-ly” said Malfoy evenly, digging his wand into Ron's neck hard enough to leave a mark.

Ron stammered something unintelligible and got the hell out of there.

“Was that necessary?” asked Hermione, glaring at Malfoy.

“Oh, were you enjoying being felt up by the Veasel. Should I have vaited until he had time to grab your ass too?” asked Malfoy sarcastically, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her in close to dance with him.

“No,” gasped Hermione, pushing against his rather well-toned chest to put a safer distance between them as he led them gracefully across the dance floor. “But I don't need you to rescue me. I can take care of myself.”

“Right. And in nine months, you'd be having a whole litter of Veasels to annoy me vith. No thanks,” replied Malfoy.

“Who says you'll still be around in nine months?” quipped Hermione.

“Planning on knocking me off?” returned Malfoy, dipping her low.

“Although it's tempting,” said Hermione. “I don't think I can legally kill you just for being an annoying prat. I was thinking of Voldemort.”

“You really think you can knock off the Dark Lord in nine months?” asked Malfoy skeptically.

“Well, let's just say that the thought of being rid of the most evil wizard of all time as well as the most annoying one is certainly excellent motivation,” replied Hermione.

Changing the subject rather abruptly, Malfoy asked something that had been weighing on his mind ever since she said it, “Did you really go out with him more than the one time?”

“I've never gone out with Ron. We're just friends. I have no idea what got into him just now.”

“Not him. I have a pretty good idea what got into him. I meant Goyle. Did you really go out with him three times?”

“I never said I went 'out' with him three times,” said Hermione, smirking at him.

“Yes, you said... oh.” Just as it dawned on Malfoy what Hermione meant by that, Harry tapped him on the shoulder.

“May I cut in?” asked Harry.

“No,” scowled Malfoy, holding onto Hermione tighter.

Hermione pinched Malfoy's arm so that he let her go of her. “Viktor and I were just finished. I would love to dance with you, Harry.”

“Vatch your hands, Potter,” said Malfoy, knocking into Harry as he stomped off angrily.

“Harry, I'm sorry about Viktor. That was really nice of you to save him like that. He really didn't deserve it.”

“I don't know what you see in him, Hermione. He's a bit of an ass to tell you the truth.”

“He's a lot of an ass,” retorted Hermione. “Actually, I've been thinking about breaking up with him.”

“You should. You could do a lot better,” said Harry.

“Maybe,” said Hermione distractedly. She was talking about Viktor, but she was thinking about Malfoy. Stupid prat.

“Hermione?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“I want another go.”

“Pardon?”

“I want to kiss you.”

“What! Are you feeling alright, Harry?”

“Yes. I've never felt better. For the first time, the thought of kissing you doesn't make me sick,” said Harry determinedly.

“Gee thanks, Harry. You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet,” said Hermione sarcastically.

“I didn't mean it like that. It's just … I'm not really very good at this kind of thing. With girls, I mean.”

“Well, I'll give you a hint. It helps if you don't tell the girl she makes you sick. Why do you want to kiss me all of a sudden anyway?” asked Hermione.

“It's not all of a sudden. I've been thinking about it since that disastrous kiss you surprised me with when we were studying that one time.”

“Please don't remind me, Harry. That was absolutely humiliating.”

“I know,” said Harry, “and I feel really bad about it. It was completely my fault. I just wasn't prepared for it.”

“And now you are?” asked Hermione skeptically.

“Yes. I don't know why, but I feel very determined. I don't want to leave things unresolved.”

Hermione looked at him when he said this and suddenly understood what was going on. “You're not going to die, Harry.”

“We don't know that, Hermione. I could. I am going to fight Voldemort, and one of us is going to die. Hopefully, I'll win, but I can't know that for sure. All I know is I don't want to die never knowing what it would be like to kiss you. To really kiss you.”

“Oh God, Harry. That is so romantic,” said Hermione, stopping in the middle of the dance floor to look into her best friends eyes.

“Come on,” said Harry, taking her by the hand. 

They walked through the garden until they reached a secluded spot where the shrubbery was so overgrown that prying eyes were no longer able to see them. A breeze had picked up and the flowers from the shrubbery were fluttering all around them creating the perfect atmosphere for what they were about to do. The setting practically screamed, 'just kiss already.' Harry reached out and plucked a stray flower from Hermione's hair; his hand lingered there for a moment and then gently brushed her cheek. 

She closed her eyes and leaned into him. Before she even knew what was happening, his lips were on hers. They were tentative at first and very gentle. She felt safe and warm in his embrace. Hermione soon melted into the kiss and almost sighed from the sweetness of it. It was absolutely perfect and not in the least bit brotherly. However, despite all of this, Hermione had this odd feeling in the back of her head that she wasn't really meant to end up with the hero of the story. Unfortunately, her life was much more complicated than that. 

Hermione slowly pulled out of the kiss and smiled up at Harry. “That was...”

“I know,” he said.

“Harry, you're my best friend.”

“I know that, too,” said Harry, kissing her on the cheek.

They walked back toward the party holding hands. Hermione grinned over at Harry and said mischievously, “I just snogged the Boy Who Lived.”

“Shut up,” said Harry playfully.

“I'm glad you found the courage.”

“Me too. I hardly feel like I have to puke at all,” said Harry, unable to keep a straight face.

“Very funny.”

“It was nice though, huh?” asked Harry.

“Very,” agreed Hermione.

“Too bad we're destined to just be friends,” said Harry.

“Yes, too bad.” Hermione sighed. She feared that whoever she was destined to be with was more than likely a right shit head. Harry left her at the table and went off to probably find Ginny, that lucky bitch. Hermione sank into the chair next to Malfoy and sighed once again.

“This vedding sucks,” said Malfoy, looking over at her.

“Are you trying to be funny?” asked Hermione warily.

“No. This is even vorse than your parent's dinner party. At least I didn't sound like an idiot then.”

“That's what you think.” Hermione smirked. Insulting Malfoy always made her feel better.

“Ha, ha. Promise me something?”

“What?” asked Hermione, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Never 'ask' me on a date ever again.”

Hermione laughed. “I'll drink to that,” she said, raising her glass. 

“Cheers.”

Malfoy clinked glasses with her, and they downed their drinks in one gulp. Hermione felt a little light headed after draining her glass, which was strange as she was only drinking pumpkin juice. Of course, the next thing she felt was even stranger. She felt Malfoy's hand on her knee. She looked down and then up and then down again. She really didn't know what to think about this new situation. She sure as hell knew how she felt though. Excited. And reckless. Hermione should have been feeling revulsion that he was touching her, but all she could think about was where else she wanted him to touch her and, even worse, what she wanted to do to him. Not moments before, she had been kissing the hero of the story and here she was now getting ready to devour its villain. Go figure.

Malfoy's hand started traveling languidly up her leg along the slit of her dress, and Hermione's only complaint was that he was moving so maddeningly slow. He was driving her out of her mind only this time in a good way. She placed her hand on his thigh causing a groan to escape from his lips. Oh God, she wanted those lips on hers. Now. She would give anything for a real kiss from him. Not like that pathetic, one-sided kiss after the Truth Bubbles. She wanted the kiss from her dreams. Her eyes met his and their gazes locked. The friction between them was electrifying. They had been building up toward this moment for so long and now that the time was finally here, Hermione could barely contain herself and neither could he apparently.

“I vant you,” he whispered seductively in her ear.

“I need you,” she responded, closing in the gap between their bodies.

“Here?”

“Here.”

Malfoy looked around to see if anyone was watching them. “Maybe ve should go back to Percy's room.”

“Can you wait that long?” she asked, squeezing his leg.

“No,” he gulped.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“But ...”

“Fuck, Malfoy. Can't a girl snog her fucking boyfriend?”

“Oh, right,” said Malfoy, forgetting again he was disguised as Viktor Krum. 

Their lips came together forcefully in a fierce display of passion. It was such a scorchingly hot kiss that they melted right off their chairs and soon found themselves snogging like crazy under the table. Hermione had no idea what she was thinking, doing something like this in the middle of a wedding reception with Malfoy, of all people, and after she had just snogged Harry, but she couldn't help herself. Malfoy was suddenly irresistible to her, and she couldn't keep her hands off him. She flung off his robes and was swiftly unbuttoning his shirt as fast as her fingers would go. If it wasn't so cliché, she would have just ripped his shirt open. She had this sudden desire to run her tongue all along his well-defined abs. What she wouldn't give for a can of whip cream about now. Malfoy's hands were gliding all over her body in the most delicious way. However, when his fingers reached up to undo the clasp of her dress, the fear of being bald swept over her briefly, overriding her sudden passion for him. 

“Stop.”

“I don't want to,” he whined in the most sexy manner.

“My dress. You can't take it off because it's hexed. You'll just have to maneuver around it,” she whispered seductively in his ear before nipping at his earlobe.

“Yes, maneuver. Those Weasley twins are fucking brilliant,” said Malfoy, sliding her dress up her legs. 

Hermione hastily unbuttoned his pants and was about to set little Draco free when her senses suddenly came crashing back to her. What the fuck was she doing? With Malfoy! In an instant, her wand was pointed at his chest, and she was openly scowling at him. Malfoy who was still panting heavily was glaring back at her with pure venom in his eyes. She angrily sent a spell flying directly at Malfoy's chest. His eyes widened with fear but when he looked down to inspect the damage, he found himself completely dressed. They both crawled out from under the table and stared at each other ruthlessly.

“What the hell did you do to me?” asked Malfoy in an angry whisper.

“I don't know what you're going on about, Malfoy, but you were doing plenty of things to me too!” answered Hermione in an angry whisper much louder than she would have liked.

“I wouldn't have done any of those things voluntarily with you,” insisted Malfoy. “You made me. You slipped me a love potion or something.

“I most certainly did not. I would never use a love potion,” said Hermione, thoroughly insulted. “Especially on the likes of you.”

“Whatever, Granger. I know you want me. With us being in such close quarters and my charm and good looks, you couldn't resist me any longer. You got a taste of me, quite literally I might add, and now you want more. Just admit it. You slipped me a love potion, so you could have your evil way with me.”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard,” declared Hermione.

“Is it?”

“Yes. First of all, I don't even find you attractive,” she lied. “I have a complete aversion to ferrets. And second of all, you are the one who wants me.”

“That is not true,” huffed Malfoy. “I don't want anything to do with you.”

“It is true. I saw how you looked at me when you saw me in this dress. You wanted me, and you know it.”

“You really think that stupid dress is responsible for this? This insane lapse of judgment? This annihilation of all rational thought in my brain? You really think that just by wearing a slutty dress, you could make me totally lose my mind and want to shag the living daylights out of you?”

“Yes,” she said wavering only slightly.

“You must be completely stupid then.”

“I am not,” replied Hermione indignantly.

“I've seen you naked, Granger. And I didn't jump you then, did I?”

“Well, no,” said Hermione, slightly embarrassed. “But I know I didn't use any kind of love potion on you. And if you didn't either, then who did?” 

Of course, Hermione knew the answer to that before she even finished asking the question. Her eyes searched the reception and her gaze soon landed on the culprits who were both sporting identical evil grins. 

“I am going to fucking kill them!”


	37. Naming Names

With a look of complete fury on her face, Hermione drew her wand and angrily stalked over to the twins. For some reason, they seemed amused by this. Idiots. 

“What the hell did you do?” she asked in a scary whisper voice that would have made even Voldemort think twice about messing with one Hermione Granger.

However, the twins only grinned back at her as though what they had just done hadn't really had catastrophic results. “Like our new potion?”

“Does it look like I Iike your new potion?” asked Hermione angrily with her hand clenched around her wand so tightly, it was a wonder she didn't snap it in two.

Hermione was so incensed that she didn't even bother to wait for their answer. Like it would really matter anyway. They would probably just have some smart response, or more than likely, a very stupid one indeed. So, without further ado, Hermione cast her spell. Unable to think of a spell evil enough, yet not so evil it would land her in Azkaban, she decided to take down her opponents first and think up a suitable punishment later. After hitting them with matching Petrificus Totaluses, Hermione could not stop her mouth from curling up into a wicked smile as she stared down at them. She had no idea what she was going to do to them yet, but whatever it was, they totally deserved it. 

Of course, it would have to be good. No ordinary curse would do for them. She would need to use her imagination. As she loomed over them menacingly, a rush of adrenaline went through her body. The power she was feeling could almost be described as orgasmic. In fact, she felt rather tingly all over. The twins were at her mercy now. Hermione could do whatever she wanted to them. She really could have her evil way with them if she wanted to, and let's face it, she just might. Thinking back to her little twin fantasy involving a very delicious sandwich, she unconsciously found herself licking her lips. Of course, when she realized what she was doing, she couldn't help blushing over it. And if there was anything she was tired of (well besides Malfoy), it was blushing. 

Yes, the twins had it coming but cumming inside her or all over her face wasn't the lesson that they needed to learn. They had probably learned all that the moment they reached puberty. No, she had a different lesson in mind. A much less enjoyable one. Well, for them anyway. She, of course, planned to enjoy it immensely. Shaking the torrid thoughts from her head, Hermione focused on all of the reasons why she absolutely did not want to have sex with the twins. She concentrated on all of the horrible things the twins had done to her. The pictures, the strip tease, the snogging, not to mention that frigging blow job! It was all so humiliating. And then it hit her. She knew exactly what she wanted to do to the twins. She wanted to make them suffer like she had. She wanted to see them blush. It seemed a little humiliation was in order. 

Smirking, she cast a vanishing spell at them, removing all of their clothes except for their matching heart boxer shorts. She kind of wimped out at going full monty on them. And as it was a formal wedding, she decided to leave their bow ties on as well. Hermione was nothing if not proper. Of course, she was also nothing if not thorough. She was far from finished with them. There was much more work to do if she wanted to come close to evening the score with them. She didn't need any distractions, so she told herself not to look down. However, everyone knows that the moment you're told not to look down, that is the one thing you are most certain to do. One little peek wouldn't hurt though, would it? Unable to help herself, she looked down at them admiring her handiwork. 

That was definitely a mistake. Unfortunately, she started admiring more than just her handiwork. She was now completely and utterly distracted and wasting valuable time for revenge. It was so unfair that two evil spawns of nature could be so incredibly hot. Perhaps the evilness was part of their charm. Hermione did seem to have a thing for bad boys which was wrong. Very, very wrong. She did not need that kind of drama in her life. Her life was dramatic enough without some two-bit loser fucking it up, let alone two of them. What she wouldn't give for another go at Neville and his grandmother at this very moment. Safe, chaperoned sex. That is what she needed.

Shit. Did she really just think that? Was she really so horny that she was actually contemplating having sex with Neville and his grandmother? That was... completely disturbing! It must be the diadem. Yeah, because it made so much more sense that Voldemort would want to have sex with Neville and his grandmother. Of course, the thought of Voldemort having sex made her shudder, but it did get her thinking. She couldn't help wondering if Voldemort was still a virgin. Because who in their right mind would want to have sex with Voldemort? And, he was so busy torturing people and trying to rule the world that he probably hadn't made the effort. Maybe if Voldemort got laid, he wouldn't be such an evil bastard and wouldn't try to overcompensate with thoughts of world domination. The world could possibly be saved if only someone was willing to step up and pop Voldemort's cherry. 

Forget Harry and that stupid prophecy. She could save the world simply by rocking Voldemort's. Alright, now she was consciously thinking about shagging Voldemort. You really couldn't get more disturbing than that. It had to be the diadem. She was not that fucked up. Well, she did have sex with Goyle. Mmmm Goyle. Stop reminiscing! What was wrong with her. She could not stop thinking about sex. Maybe she was just worked up from all of the snogging. Who wouldn't get turned on after kissing George, Harry and Malfoy back to back to back? After all, George was extremely talented and Harry's kisses were so gentle and sweet, yet very sexy. 

And Malfoy... Oh God! Do not think about Malfoy! She should definitely not be thinking about “that” right now while she had two half-naked men at her mercy. Teenage hormones were not her friend. Of course, normal teenagers probably didn't think about having sex with awkward teenagers and their grandmothers, not to mention with vicious monsters. Perhaps, she was just completely insane. Yes, that was probably it. Before Hermione could think of any other disturbing people to have sex with, Mrs. Weasley kindly interrupted her thoughts. 

“Hello, Hermione. Enjoying the wedding, dear?” asked Mrs. Weasley, smiling as though everything was right with the world and her evil twins (now lying half naked on the ground at her feet) hadn't just spoiled her firstborn's wedding. Hermione had to get her hands on some of that calming draught the twins invented. It must be some good shit.

“Yes, Mrs. Weasley. It's lovely,” said Hermione politely, quickly muttering a “Finite” under her breath to lift the spell on the twins. Shit. She really shouldn't have looked down. She had wanted to play with them a bit more, but it seemed now wasn't the time. Perhaps, she could try out that Sticking Charm later. Of course, Mrs. Weasley was so loopy at the moment, she might not even notice if they had their hands stuck inside their pants or even better in each other's pants. Hmmm.

When the twins started stirring, Mrs. Weasley finally acknowledged Fred and George and said good naturedly, “Boys, quit loafing around. We're at a wedding, for goodness sake. And George, Mr. Wee Willy Winky Pants is poking out. Please tuck him in, dear.”

“Yes, Mum,” grumbled George obediently, tucking in the so called Mr. Wee Willy Winky Pants.

“That's a good boy. And, Fred, your tie is crooked,” said Mrs. Weasley, straightening his tie. “That's better. Now, don't you two look dashing. Nice choice on the heart underpants. Quite appropriate for a wedding, I must say,” said Mrs. Weasley approvingly.

Hermione looked at Mrs. Weasley in shock. Had the woman not noticed that her sons were practically naked? The twins' new calming draught was freaking genius. 

“Now,” continued Mrs. Weasley. “You two try to behave yourselves. Fleur's parents are in a bit of a shock after all of your shenanigans during the wedding. I don't know why I'm not more angry about it.”

“Probably because we're so darn adorable,” said Fred, giving her a boyish grin.

Or because your adorable sons drugged you with the strongest calming draught known to wizard-kind, thought Hermione bitterly. 

“Yes, you are adorable. Aren't they adorable, Hermione?” asked Mrs. Weasley, looking fondly at her sons.

“Mmmmm,” said Hermione noncommittally.

“We knew you liked us,” said George, grabbing her tightly in a one armed hug, causing her cleavage to be even more noticeable than it already was if that was possible.

Mrs. Weasley's eyes slightly narrowed at this display and at Hermione's new-found womanliness. “Are you cold, Hermione? I could whip you up a jumper in no time,” said Mrs. Weasley, starting to get out her wand.

“No, thank you,” said Hermione quickly. “If I do get cold, I can always put on that lovely orange jumper you so graciously knitted for me a few years ago.” Well, she could have anyway, if Goyle hadn't vanished it and if she didn't mind being bald. And if that jumper hadn't been seriously ugly.

“If you say so, dear,” replied Mrs. Weasley offhandedly before heading over to talk to some Weasley relatives.

Hermione turned her attention back to the twins, but the words that came out of her mouth were not the ones she had anticipated on saying. Ever. “Mr. Wee Willy Winky Pants?”

“Yes,” said George indignantly and then offered rather mischievously, “Would you like me to introduce you?”

“No, thank you,” replied Hermione tartly.

“No matter,” replied George and then he looked smugly over at his twin. “As long as you meet him before you get acquainted with Mr. Peppy Pee Pee Perky Pants.”

“Shut up, George,” said Fred, giving him a shove.

“Excuse me?” said Hermione, her eyes going wide and unconsciously looking down at the front of Fred's boxer shorts.

George started laughing. “Mum says that every time she changed Fred's nappy that his...”

Fred interrupted, “Well, I'd rather have a peppy pee pee than a wee willy, and I'm sure Hermione would too.”

“Hey!” yelled George offended. “It's not wee anymore.”

“So says you. Why don't we ask your string of ex-girlfriends about it?” Fred asked mockingly.

“Why don't you?” returned George. “And then why don't we ask yours about how long Mr. Peppy was actually peppy.”

“Mr. Peppy is plenty peppy!”

“Would you two shut up already? You know, I find it very disturbing that you still use your Mum's pet names for your... bits,” said Hermione uncomfortably.

“I would hardly say 'bits' is an accurate description. Well, maybe for George it is,” said Fred, sending a dig to his twin.

“Not bloody likely.”

“That's enough,” said Hermione. “Knowing you two, I'm sure you're identically impressive or disappointing, whatever the case may be.”

“Impressive,” said the twins in unison.

“Whatever,” said Hermione. “The point is, I don't care. I have no desire to meet Mr. Wee Willy Winky Pants or Mr. Peppy Pee Pee Perky Pants. Ever.”

“And why is that?” asked George. “Is it all about Mr. Smirking Stiffy Snarky Pants now?”

Fred burst out laughing, but Hermione raised her wand again. “Speaking of him...”

“Oh, so you know who we mean,” interrupted George, smirking.

Hermione decided to ignore that. “Did you two slip me a love potion?”

“Why?” asked Fred. “Fancy yourself in love?”

“And are you in love with Krum, Malfoy or Mr. Snarky Pants?” asked George, laughing.

“This is not funny!” yelled Hermione, stamping her foot and sending some Stinging Hexes their way.

“I don't know what you're so upset about,” said Fred, recovering first. “It's not like the potion makes you do anything too crazy.”

Hermione stared at them in disbelief. What the hell did they think too crazy was? She had all but ripped Malfoy's clothes off. What she and Malfoy had just done was pure insanity. “It's a love potion! Of course it makes you do crazy things. Weren't you listening in Potion's class? Don't you remember what happened to Ron when he was slipped a love potion? Love potions are dangerous! I can't believe you would be so irresponsible!”

“Oh, come on, Hermione,” said George, rolling his eyes. “Of course, you believe we would be irresponsible enough to slip you a love potion, but the fact remains, we didn't.”

“You should be... What?” asked Hermione in disbelief. “It wasn't a love potion?”

“Are you in love with Malfoy,” asked Fred accusingly.

“No, of course not,” began Hermione.

“Then why would you think it was a love potion,” asked George.

“I, I...” stammered Hermione, not exactly sure how to answer that.

“I can't believe you are in love with Mr. Snarky Pants,” huffed Fred.

“I'm not. And stop calling him that!” yelled Hermione, starting to lose control.

“Mr. Small Salami Saucy Pants,” offered George.

“How about Mr. Pallid Prick Prat Pants?” asked Fred sarcastically.

“Oh, I know,” began George, starting to really get into it.

“No more pet names for Malfoy's thingy!” interrupted Hermione. “Believe me, I have had quite enough of little Draco for one day and... What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You are on a first name basis with Malfoy's dick?” asked Fred incredulously with a hint of jealousy.

Hermione's cheeks turned scarlet. Shit. She kind of was. How it had happened, she didn't know, but she had somehow started thinking of it as little Draco. So not good. She should not be thinking of “it” at all much less calling “it” by “his” first name. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“It's all your fault!” said Hermione accusingly. “You made me on a first name basis with it!”

“She does have a point there, Fred.”

“Shut up, George.”

“What are you even thinking? You have some stupid contest going on, trying to do who knows what with me, yet you keep setting me up with Malfoy. And, Fred, you claim to even like me, but thanks to you, I gave Malfoy a frigging blow job! And a really good one at that! And then under the table, we… well, never mind about that. Either you have some evil genius scheme that I am unaware of or you two are complete idiots!”

“Another very good point.”

“Shut up, George.”

“Well, it was,” huffed George. “I don't want to be an idiot though, so let's go with the evil genius scheme option. Any ideas?”

“No,” grumbled Fred.


	38. Cupid's Courage

“Definitely idiots,” Hermione murmured, rolling her eyes.

“Now, to be fair,” defended George, “the whole blow job thing wasn't really our fault.”

“What!” exclaimed Hermione. “If you are implying that it was my fault...”

“Well, how were we supposed to know you were going to give him a blow job?” interrupted Fred accusingly.

“We thought you would kiss him. Maybe do a little groping,” George agreed.

“And then you had to go and give him a frigging blow job. We didn't even know that you knew how to do that!” exclaimed Fred.

“Yeah, you had us really fooled with the whole prude act you had going on. Then you totally blew away that whole image. Literally!” joked George. “Ah, those never get old.”

“I guess we should have figured that you would know how to give a good blow job since you always seem to know everything. I just kind of thought I would be the one to teach you,” said Fred, sounding slightly disappointed. “I even stole some of Snape's teaching robes when we were both back at school.”

“You did what!” exclaimed Hermione incredulously.

“Another fantasy of mine.” Fred winked. “A little student/teacher role playing on Snape's desk. Too bad I ended up missing my final year. It would have been very... educational.”

“You wanted to, um, tutor me?” asked Hermione, almost choking on the words. She had no idea Fred had even noticed her when they were at Hogwarts together, well, other than for being Ron's annoying little know-it-all friend. This was certainly news to her. And on Professor Snape's desk? In his robe? That would have been... interesting.

“You know, Hermione. I still have Snape's robe,” said Fred suggestively. “And I bet I could still teach you a trick or two.” 

George, of course, was not to be out done. There was still a contest going on after all. “I know some tricks as well, Hermione, and I happen to do an excellent Snape impersonation,” he said, putting a scowl on his face and raising one eyebrow exactly as Professor Snape did. Sexy.

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She found it a little odd that they kept bringing up Professor Snape's name, and she was quite sure that she wasn't going to like their reasoning for it. “And I would care about that why?” 

“Well, Ron kind of told us that you had a thing with Snape,” admitted Fred reluctantly.

“A thing? There was no thing!” said Hermione shrilly.

“Please,” said George. “We had to listen to Ron complain about you and Snape after every Potions lesson. It was revolting. Sometimes, I can still hear his annoying rants in my head.”

As if on cue, Fred obliged with his best impersonation of his little brother. Sounding like a complete and utter dufus, he said, “Bloody hell. You should have seen them. It was disgusting how they made sex eyes at each other while the rest of us suffered trying to make a shrinking solution. That sneaky Slytherin snake certainly wasn't shrinking, I can tell you that!”

George laughed and was quite willing to join in on the fun at Ron's expense. He cleared his throat dramatically and said in a most Ron-like manner, “Bloody hell. Today we had to make a Pepperup Potion for that bloody bastard. More like pecker up if you ask me.”

Trying to keep a straight face, Fred continued their tirade, “A Swelling Solution? Are you fucking kidding me? That rat bastard doesn't need a fucking Swelling Solution!”

“An Everlasting Elixir! He wishes! Pompous fuckwit,” cracked George.

“Exploding fluid. Ejaculate this, you Slytherin shit head,” said Fred, making a crude hand gesture.

George was laughing so hard by this time that he could barely get out, “Euphoria Elixir! Why don't you just take her on the desk right now, you fucking pervert!”

“Bloody hell. Hermione practically wet herself trying to answer that question today,” said Fred, trying not to smirk about it. “What am I saying? She probably did wet herself!”

“Unevenly chopped, my ass,” said George. “Snape better keep it in his pants around Hermione, or I really will show him an unevenly chopped tubeworm.”

Keeping his eyes focused on Hermione for her reaction, Fred said, “I don't know what she sees in that fucking bastard. If she was going to screw a Slytherin, I'd almost rather her be fucking bloody Malfoy. Bloody hell!”

“He did not say that!” exclaimed Hermione.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Hermione,” insisted Fred. “Ron says 'bloody hell' all of the time.”

“Yeah,” agreed George. “Kind of his trademark.”

“That's not what I... Oh, never mind,” huffed Hermione. It was totally not worth the trouble. “Ron's an idiot. There was no thing with Snape.” Well, not on his part anyway, she grudgingly thought.

“Wait,” said George. “We're not finished with the Ron impressions, are we? I was saving my best one for last. You'll like this one, Hermione.” He cleared his throat again. “Could Hermione suck up to Snape anymore than she already is. She might as well be sucking his bloody...”

“Stop! Do not finish that sentence,” warned Hermione dangerously.

“Why?” George smirked. “Know the ending already?”

“I think we all know that she does,” Fred said sarcastically.

“Only because of you two assholes,” said Hermione angrily.

“Oh, Hermione,” George said mockingly. “I think we all know that wasn't your first blow job.”

Hermione closed her eyes and counted to ten in five different languages before she could even remotely respond to that calmly. “That is none of your fucking business. And besides the point! Why in Merlin's name did you slip me, and Malfoy, of all people, a love potion?”

“We already told you. It isn't a love potion,” said Fred rather grumpily.

“Alright,” said Hermione just as grumpily. “Snogging solution, porn potion, insanity elixir, whatever the fuck you want to call it.”

“We call it Cupid's Courage actually. My idea. Catchy name, huh?” said George proudly.

“Ha!” exclaimed Hermione. “Sounds like a love potion to me.”

“How many times do we have to tell you. It is not a bloody love potion. Believe me,” said Fred. “if you are in love with Malfoy, it is through no fault of ours.”

George nodded his head in agreement. “Cupid's Courage is really just a confidence booster, designed to help all of those poor unfortunate souls who are looking for love but are too scared to go after it. We're really doing a great public service with this latest product. Of course, we're sure to make a killing off of it as well. Lot of losers out there, you know. I mean, poor love-starved bastards,” George amended, bowing his head.

“And,” said Fred. “It doesn't make you do anything you don't want to do. Whatever you did with Malfoy was your choice. You have complete control over your actions with this potion. Cupid's Courage just gives you that extra bit of confidence to do what you really want to do already. So, what exactly was it that you really wanted to do with Malfoy anyway?”

Against her will, Hermione could feel herself blushing. The twins must be lying. This could not be true. Could it? She had not wanted to do “that” with Malfoy, had she? She didn't want to rip his clothes off or kiss every inch of his well-toned body. She didn't want to feel his hands on her or have him kiss her until she was just a melted puddle on the floor. She didn't really want to have sex with him. Did she? Oh, God. She really wasn't so sure now. She was getting hot just thinking about it. And if she had wanted to, did it also mean that Malfoy had really wanted to do “that” with her as well? Shit. “What we did is none of your business!” she snapped. 

“Hermione,” said George patiently. “It is very important that you tell us everything. Every single sordid detail. We're not just being perverts here. If it's something we can wack off to later, that's just a bonus. This is for research. And we know you understand about research. There is no need to worry. Everything, even the really kinky stuff, will be completely confidential. We need to know all of the effects before we can put Cupid's Courage on our shelves. Think of all of our poor unsuspecting customers. Not telling us would only be hurting innocent people.”

Hermione was practically shaking with anger. “You tested a new product on me? And Malfoy! You used us as your guinea pigs!”

“Well, not just you and Malfoy. Everyone here. What better place to test out Cupid's Courage than at a wedding where love is already in the air? It's the perfect testing ground. And it was so easy. All we had to do was slip it in the pumpkin juice,” said George.

Hermione's eyes grew wide as they swept over the reception. She had been so wrapped up in her own romantic misadventures that she hadn't noticed what was happening around her. She now saw couples holding hands, sneaking romantic kisses, looking longingly into each other's eyes and then she saw something she really wished she hadn't. “You gave that potion to your Auntie Muriel? You two are sick.”

Fred just shrugged. “That old bat could use a good snog.” 

“Wait a minute,” said Hermione, a thought suddenly occurring to her. “Did you give that potion to Ron? Is that why he...”

“Grabbed your boob? Yeah,” said George. 

Fred rolled his eyes. “You'd think he'd take this golden opportunity that we handed to him to finally kiss you, but instead he decides to cop a feel. Can we help it if he's a complete twat?”

“Well, you can't really blame him, I guess,” said George. “Her boobs look awfully perky in that slutty dress she's wearing. Quite squeezable, really. I might have done the same. Still might. Maybe we should give him a second chance.” 

“No!” yelled both Hermione and Fred.

“Why not?” George asked grinning evilly. “Don't you like our little Ronniekins anymore, Hermione? Is it all about Malfoy now?”

“There is nothing going on between Malfoy and I other than what you two have orchestrated!” Hermione snapped.

“That is a bunch of bullshit, and you know it,” said Fred somewhat heatedly. “That potion is not the reason you spent twenty frigging minutes under the table with Malfoy.

“You'll have to excuse my second best half, Hermione. He's a little bit peeved at the moment. You see, Fred thought slipping you that potion would give him a little extra edge in our competition. I warned him that it would backfire miserably.”

“It might have worked if I had been around her when she took it instead of off wasting my time with you,” grumbled Fred.

Hermione looked at Fred curiously and then back at George. “So, if Fred would have been there and not Malfoy, I would have been snogging him under the table instead?” 

“Not necessarily,” replied George. “Only if you had really wanted to snog Fred in the first place, and that's still up for debate. The potion just gives you the confidence you need to act out something you already feel compelled to do. Ron didn't have to grab your boob. He just bloody well wanted to. And Harry well that was a bit of a surprise. Ginny's not going to be too happy about that.”

“You've been spying on me?” asked Hermione angrily and somewhat embarrassed.

“Well, of course we have,” said Fred as though that were the obvious thing to do. “This is a test run of our new potion. We need to record the results and collect data before we can market it. If you withhold any type of information at all, even the slightest detail, it could be detrimental to our research and could even be dangerous for our consumers. You wouldn't want to be responsible for that now, would you? Now, tell us, Hermione. What exactly were you doing with Malfoy under the table?”

Hermione glared at them. She wanted to tell them exactly where they could put their research, but she just couldn't do it. It was research! It was sacred, and she couldn't be responsible for compromising it no matter how much they deserved to have it shoved up their identical fucking asses. There was really only one thing she could do, and those fucking bastards knew it. “Well,” said Hermione, the heat rising in her cheeks. “It worked.”

“Oh,” said Fred, trying not to show too much interest. “And exactly how well did it work?”

“Too well,” said Hermione, glaring at them.

“And how well is too well?” asked George, quill ready.

“If you're really going to sell that stupid miserable potion, I think you should definitely put it in your adults-only section and maybe sell it with a Contraceptive Charm,” she added embarrassingly yet responsibly.

“Hmmm,” said George, writing things down furiously on his notepad. “Most interesting.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” asked Hermione worriedly, trying to read George's notes.

“It's interesting because the potion doesn't have those kind of effects,” replied Fred dryly. 

“I think I would know a little better than you what kind of effects I experienced under that table, Fred,” snapped Hermione.

“Cupid's Courage is extremely mild, and the effects of the potion last exactly one minute after you find the courage to do the thing you want to do,” replied Fred, giving her a hard look. “Whatever you did for the other nineteen minutes you were under the table was entirely your own doing.”

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. Was he fucking joking? “I almost had sex with him right under the table!” exclaimed Hermione, her voice getting shrill. “That was not my own doing!”

“Well, I'm sure Malfoy helped a little despite being the selfish bastard that he is,” offered George unhelpfully.

“Almost,” echoed Fred, ignoring his twin. Slowly a smile began to form on his face. “Well, that's alright then.”

“Alright! Are you frigging kidding me? It is not bloody alright! I almost had sex with Malfoy! Malfoy!”

“Calling out my name again, Granger?” drawled Malfoy as best as he could with Viktor's Bulgarian accent.

“Speak of the fucking devil,” said George.

“The 'almost' fucking devil,” amended Fred.

“Go away, Malfoy,” said Hermione, still in shock about the nineteen minutes. “Believe me, I am not in the mood for you right now.”

“Too bad that vasn't the case a few minutes ago,” returned Malfoy sarcastically, “vhen you vere attacking me under the table.”

“I wasn't groping myself, Malfoy,” retorted Hermione without thinking about what she was saying.

“Yeah, because that would have been hot,” said George.

“Mmmmm,” agreed Fred.

Malfoy didn't reply, but he had a far off look on his face.

Hermione left them to their own disgusting thoughts and wandered off in a daze back to her table. She sank down into her chair with an exhausted sigh. It had been one crazy day, and she had found at least nineteen minutes of it to be completely disturbing. How had it happened? Malfoy was a complete prat. She hated everything about him from his stupid white hair to his stupid smirk. He couldn't even speak without spewing something vulgar or insulting. He drove her completely insane. She couldn't even count the number of times she had thought about sending an Avada Kadavra his way. 

And yet, for those nineteen minutes, she had wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything else in her whole life. Thanks to that stupid, stupid potion, she now knew without a doubt, that the impossible had happened. Hermione Granger was sexually attracted to Draco Malfoy, the most annoying bastard in the whole world. And even worse than that, she had no regrets about those nineteen minutes and greatly feared that she might even be “in like” with the fucking asshole. Bloody hell! She glared at the pumpkin juice in front of her. Stupid fucking potion. She picked it up and angrily threw out its contents. Good riddance. 

Hearing someone swear the exact same curse word she was now repeating over and over in her head, she looked up and couldn't help but laugh out loud. There stood a dripping wet Malfoy glaring down at her. “Oh, Malfoy. You look like a drowned ferret.” It didn't matter that the Polyjuice made him look exactly like her scum of an ex-boyfriend Viktor. For some unknown reason, she still saw him as Malfoy. She really didn't want to dwell on that though.

Malfoy was about to retort rather angrily in retaliation to her ferret comment when he suddenly found himself pushed to the ground with a hand over his mouth. And even more surprisingly, Hermione Granger was straddling him.

“Don't say anything, Malfoy,” whispered Hermione hurriedly, trying not to draw any more attention to themselves than they already had. Fortunately, the wedding reception had turned into a snogfest of sorts. Thanks to the Weasley twins and their stupid potion, everyone was busy doing their own dirty deeds. “Keep your big mouth shut, Malfoy, or you might accidentally swallow some more of that potion.” 

Hermione grabbed a napkin from the table and carefully wiped Malfoy's face paying particular attention to his full lips. She sat there a while just staring at him and then she leaned in close and asked, ”Do you want to kiss me?”

Malfoy looked at her for a minute as if considering and then said, “Vhat the fuck do you think?”

Hermione let out a huff of annoyance. “Well, I was just checking.”

“Do you mind?” asked Malfoy gruffly.

“Oh,” said Hermione, quickly scrambling to get off Malfoy. “Sorry.”

They both sat down in silence. Malfoy grabbed the bottle of champagne on the table and poured two glasses. He pushed one over to Hermione and then drank his in one gulp.

Hermione shook her head. “No thank you. I don't drink.”

“Too much of a goody-goody?” Malfoy smirked.

“No,” sniffed Hermione. “It just doesn't sit well with me.”

“Good-goody,” Malfoy taunted. “You probably haff never even had a drink before.”

“I have actually,” said Hermione, trying not to rise to his bait. “Once.”

“Vonce,” repeated Malfoy, laughing. “Aren't you the vild vone?”

“I suppose I was,” said Hermione smoothly. “I did shag Goyle three times that night.”

Malfoy paled slightly and then silently slid the drink away from her.

“So,” said Malfoy in an effort to make conversation and get that horrible image out of his mind, “vhat kind of potion vas it?”

Hermione started to panic. There was no way in hell she was telling him what that stupid potion really did (or didn't do for that matter.) “Oh, well, it was a, uh, Stupidity Potion.” There, that was sort of true anyway. Practically having sex with Malfoy under a table at a wedding reception was certainly one of the more stupid things she had done in her life. Right up there with shagging Goyle and the whole Polyjuice incident. At least she didn't have a tail this time. Malfoy almost got a little tail, but that was beside the point. “Yes, a Stupidity Potion because what we did was, um, stupid?”

“Still under the influence, I see,” said Malfoy sarcastically.

“Very funny, Malfoy,” Hermione said, regaining her composure. “Of course, there is no way of telling if you are still under the influence of the potion or not, since you're, you know, stupid all of the time.”

“Not so stupid I vould ever think to shag your sorry ass.”

“Whatever, Malfoy,” said Hermione, not quite believing him. If what the twins said was true, this was not the first time he had thought about shagging her.

“You think I vanted to shag you?” asked Malfoy angrily.

“I think you almost did,” retorted Hermione just as angrily.

“Correction. Ve almost did. The potion vas affecting you just as much as it vas me.”

“Yes, the potion,” said Hermione somewhat uncomfortably. “That's why we were both so stupid.” Not.

“At least it vas because of a potion. I was starting to get a little vorried.” 

“Malfoy?” began Hermione tentatively. “What exactly were you thinking? You know, when we were under the table.”

“Vell, I can tell you that I certainly vasn't thinking vith my head, Granger.”

“Yes, I know exactly what you were thinking with, Malfoy!” exclaimed Hermione, unable to control her temper. “But were you feeling anything in particular?” she probed.

“I vas feeling your hand in my pants,” Malfoy said, smirking.

“That is not what I mean!”

“Alright, alright! At first, all I could think about vas touching you.”

“And then? Nineteen minutes into it? What were you thinking then?” asked Hermione more urgently.

“That you veren't vearing any knickers. Again!” Malfoy laughed.

“Besides that, you idiot,” said Hermione, clearly annoyed.

“You mean like how I felt like I vas beginning to fall in love vith you?”

“No, of course not. Oh God! You were not thinking that, were you?” asked Hermione, completely horrified. How could he possibly be thinking that? The 'L' word was the one four letter word she would have sworn he didn't know. “Malfoy, are you falling in love with me?”

Malfoy leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “The Slytherin prince falling in love vith the Gryffindor princess? Now, that really would be stupid.”


	39. Darling Dear

Groaning, Hermione let her head fall to the table with a thud. This was so not happening. That stupid asshole actually felt like he was falling in love with her? What the fuck was wrong with him? He was ruining a perfectly good relationship. They hated each other. They tossed insults back and forth. They exchanged witty banter. They played nasty tricks meant to cause humiliation and unnatural suffering. They lived to make each other miserable. That is what they did. That is what worked for them. They absolutely, positively did not fall in love!

Malfoy was not boyfriend material. At all. He was in no way romantic. If he were ever to send her red roses, she would expect that they would be accompanied by an itchy red rash that lasted somewhere between seven to fourteen days. And he was definitely not thoughtful. Unless he was, of course, thinking of himself, the selfish prick. He wasn't even a nice person. In fact, the only nice thing about him was his ass, which admittedly was rather nice. She hated it when her mother was right. However, the fact that Malfoy had a nice ass was pretty much canceled out by the fact that he was an ass. So really, he had no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Plus, he was a nasty horrible person and a Slytherin. Well, perhaps that was somewhat redundant, but the point was, he was an asshole. 

No one could infuriate her more than Draco Malfoy, and he didn't even have to say a word to do it. All he had to do was give her one of his trademark smirks, and she was completely undone. She couldn't be in the same room with him for two minutes without having evil thoughts about doing him in, and she suspected he felt the same about her. They were a bad match, plain and simple. There was no way in hell that they could ever be boyfriend and girlfriend and live to tell about it. So, the fact that he was probably, more than likely falling in love with her, and she was, well... never mind. It was just wrong. Needless to say, those stupid Weasley twins had really fucked things up this time. Bloody hell!

“Vhat the fuck's vrong vith you?”

“Oh, nothing, Malfoy,” she said with a sigh, turning her head toward him. “Just the end of the world as we know it.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You've been hanging around Potter too long.”

Hermione took a deep breath and summoned up the courage to ask him the one question she was dying to know the answer to. “Malfoy, did you really feel like you were falling in love with me after you took that potion?”

“Vhy does it matter?” he asked suspiciously.

“It doesn't matter.” She shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “I'm just curious is all.”

“Give me a fucking break. It vas just a stupid potion. I am not in love vith you,” he said, starting to get defensive.

“So, you did feel it though?” pressed Hermione.

“I didn't say that!”

Hermione ignored him and continued her interrogation. “Did you feel it for the whole twenty minutes we were under the table or just near the beginning?”

“You vere timing it?” asked Malfoy in disbelief.

“No,” said Hermione indignantly. “Fred was.”

“Creepy bastard,” muttered Malfoy under his breath.

“Malfoy,” said Hermione exasperatedly. “Just tell me how long you felt it.”

“I already told you. I am not in love vith you!”

“I know what you think, Malfoy. I want to know what you feel!”

“I'll tell you vhat I feel. Fucking annoyed.”

Hermione glared at him. He was absolutely infuriating sometimes. Scratch that. All of the time. “And you think I'm not annoyed? You are the most annoying bastard I have ever met. Now, just answer my fucking question! Did you or did you not feel like you were falling in love with me!”

“Vait a minute. Do you actually think I am in love vith you?” said Malfoy, starting to laugh. “You seriously think that that is even a possibility? It's a fucking joke; that's vhat it is.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” mumbled Hermione. She could feel her face getting red despite the fact that she knew the situation wasn't all that laughable.

“As if I could ever fall in love vith you,” he scoffed. “You're a Gryffindor. That alone is enough to make it an impossibility. You're also a know-it-all. You're boring. Not at all attractive. You're friends vith Potter. You had a crush on Veasel. You shagged Goyle. Obviously, you have no taste. When you're not dressing like a whore, you vear frumpy clothes that do absolutely nothing for you. I didn't even notice you vere a girl until fourth year at the Yule Ball. You vear you're skirts too long. You're favorite accessory seems to be the stick you have up your ass. You act like a prude and yet you've snogged more blokes than Pansy. You need a fucking book to give you an orgasm. You are bossy. Your hair is too bushy. And you are not half as smart as you think you are. In fact, if you seriously think that I could ever fall in love vith you, then you are even more stupid than Crabbe.”

Throughout most of Malfoy's insults, Hermione was able to grit her teeth and bear it. After all, everything he had said was true, for the most part. She was a Gryffindor and a know-it-all, which in her book was a good thing. Some ignorant people probably did find her intellectually stimulating conversation boring, but that was their problem. She never claimed to be the most attractive girl at school. Looking like a bimbo just so she could catch the eye of some testosterone-filled dip shit was not her top priority after all. She was friends with Harry. She did (past tense) have a crush on Ron. She did shag Goyle (three times). Her taste was questionable, especially taking into account recent events and feelings. 

Through no fault of her own, she was dressed like a whore. She preferred to wear practical clothes because they were, well, practical. She'd like to see Lavendar Brown run from Death Eaters in a mini skirt and high heels. She found nothing wrong with having a stick up her ass (figuratively speaking, of course). The snogging was not her fault. She was more than willing to blame the twins for that, and she felt quite adamantly that Regulus did not count. He was a frigging painting! An orgasm was an orgasm, whether it involved a book or not. And Goyle sure the fuck didn't have a book on him that night. She was only bossy because everyone around her needed some direction. And so what if her hair was bushy? At least it wasn't fucking pink!

Hermione didn't usually let insults bother her, after all, she was used to being misunderstood and under-appreciated. Her best friends were Harry and Ron for Merlin's sake. And it's not like she wanted Malfoy to like her because she didn't. Him liking her came with a lot of shit she didn't need. But somehow, Malfoy knew just how to push her buttons. She didn't like being laughed at. And for him to say that there wasn't even a possibility that he could ever like her because she was so ugly and boring and all of that other fucking shit he was ranting on and on about just made her mad. Furious, in fact. 

And if that wasn't enough, he had to go and insult her intelligence and compare her to fucking Crabbe no less. At that horribly unfair and unjust comment, her hands had clenched into tight fists ready to wallop him just like in third year. Ah, good times. However, one thought and one thought alone kept her from really decking him. He didn't know. He. Did. Not. Know. And at that moment, Hermione realized that it didn't really matter what Malfoy was saying about her. The fact still remained. He liked her. A lot. Maybe even was in love with her. And he had no fucking clue.

“So, what you're saying,” said Hermione calmly, looking him right in the eye, “is that you find me completely repulsive.”

“Exactly,” said Malfoy with a nod of his head.

“And that there is absolutely no way that you could ever fall in love with me because you are not attracted to me in the slightest.”

“Glad to see you're finally using those brains of yours, Granger.”

“And the only reason you snogged me under the table was because of the potion.”

“It's the only logical explanation.”

“Indeed. Well, you do seem to be quite sure of yourself,” mused Hermione with a twinkle ala Dumbledore in her eye.

“I am,” he replied somewhat confidently.

“So, if I were to do this,” said Hermione, putting her hand on his knee, “it wouldn't have any effect on you?”

His eyes widened at the unexpected contact. “No,” he gulped.

“Hmmm. How about this?” she asked innocently, moving her hand lightly up his leg. 

“Nothing,” he answered, although his voice seemed to be an octave higher than normal.

“And how does this make you feel?” asked Hermione as she traced her finger lightly over his lips. “Disgusted?”

“Mmhmm,” replied Malfoy unconvincingly.

“What if,” whispered Hermione, leaning in close, “I were to kiss you? How would that make you feel?”

Malfoy swallowed hard and his eyes unconsciously flicked down to Hermione's mouth. Just as he was leaning in to meet her lips, Hermione smirked at him. “See, it is possible. You do like me.”

Malfoy jumped back as if stung. “I do not. I loathe you.”

“You, like me,” she insisted, poking him in the chest playfully several times for emphasis and maybe because it felt good. 

Malfoy scowled. He knew when he had been tricked, and he didn't like it one bit. So, he said the first thing that popped into his head. “You... darling dear!” 

Hermione couldn't help but smile. Tormenting Malfoy was such fun, and she had to admit that he was awfully cute when he was shouting endearments at her that he didn't mean. “Aww, Malfoy, don't you say the sweetest things,” she gushed insincerely.

Confusion flitted across Malfoy's face, and he tried again. “Buttercup! Sweetheart! Honey-bunch!”

“Oh, you do go on,” said Hermione, batting her eyelashes at him mockingly. 

“Sweet pea! Cupcake! Muffin! Angel cake!” Malfoy shouted, getting angrier and angrier.

“Now, you're just making me hungry,” she pretend pouted.

“Precious! Baby doll! Schnooky ookums!”

At that, Hermione burst out laughing. “Like my little Endearment Spell? Clever, isn't it? Can't have my 'boyfriend' calling me inappropriate names in front of my friends. That just wouldn't do now, would it?”

Malfoy scowled as he remembered the spell she had cast on him back at Grimauld Place. “Beloved.”

“Shut it already, Krum,” said Ron, coming up to the table from behind them. “You're making everyone gag with all that lovey, dovey crap you're spouting. It's not even romantic when you shout it like that.”

“Vhat vould you know about romance, Veasel-ley? Been getting some lately, have you?”

Ron blushed and unconsciously looked over at Hermione. Hermione, feeling bad for her friend, grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Don't pay any attention to Viktor. He's just being grumpy. And you're right. The shouting wasn't at all romantic. Perhaps, 'Viktor' should try a little harder at expressing his feelings next time,” she said, sending a smug look over to Malfoy.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes but only said, “I don't know. It got the 'job' done.”

Hermione somehow swallowed the wrong way and started choking at that comment, but Ron merely slapped her on the back and asked her if she wanted to dance again.

“I don't know, Ron,” began Hermione hesitantly.

“I'm really sorry for what happened before, Hermione,” apologized Ron sincerely. “It won't happen again. I promise.”

“Have you been drinking at all lately?” asked Hermione cautiously.

“No, of course not,” replied Ron, thinking she was talking about alcoholic beverages, of which he hadn't had any, as his mum wouldn't approve. And although she seem rather mellow tonight, he wasn't risking it.

“Alright then,” agreed Hermione.

“Vait a minute. Ve still haff some unfinished business. Ve vere in the middle of something vhen you so rudely interrupted us, Veasel-ly.”

“So, hurry up and finish it then, so Hermione and I can have our dance,” said Ron impatiently.

“If you say so,” said Malfoy with a smirk. “Vhere vere ve, princess?”

Before Hermione could figure out exactly what Malfoy was up to, his lips were forcefully on hers, nearly knocking the breath out of her. She clutched on tight to Malfoy's shoulders to keep from losing her balance and without thinking returned the kiss. His kiss. It was a merciless kiss and one she was not likely to forget anytime soon, if ever. His mouth was possessive and his tongue searching, yet his lips were soft and vulnerable. In an effort to gain some control, she bit his lip in defiance as well as desire. Malfoy responded with a satisfied moan and deepened the kiss even more. 

They kissed each other hungrily for some time, completely forgetting themselves as well as poor Ron, who looked on forlornly still waiting for his dance. After what seemed like an eternity to Ron and only a fleeting moment to the kissing duo, Malfoy's attentive lips broke away from her supple mouth and traveled hotly across her jaw line. His warm breath on her skin made her shiver in delight. He furthered her pleasure by making sweet kisses all along her neck until he reached her ear which he nipped playfully. Tickling her ear, he whispered huskily, “You vant to know how I'm feeling now? I'm feeling smug. How about you? How are you feeling?”

For once in her life, Hermione Granger was completely dumbstruck. She was so taken aback with his question and that fucking hot kiss that she couldn't even answer him. All she could seem to do was stare at him stupidly. Malfoy smirked at her and carelessly pushed her toward Ron. 

“Ve are finished now. Hands off her tits though. They're mine.” Then he kissed Hermione's hand and with a cruel glint in his eye, said to her, “Just remember, you vill always be a darling dear to me, and I know that you know exactly vhat that means. Enjoy your dance, sweetheart.”

Without a word, Hermione let Ron lead her onto the dance floor, and they were halfway thorough their dance before she came to her senses and the anger finally settled in. “That fucking bastard.”

“He really is,” agreed Ron readily. “You should totally dump him. He's not good enough for you.”

“You're right. He is most definitely not good enough for me,” agreed Hermione angrily. Who the fuck did he think he was kissing her like that? And then fucking asking her how she felt. That fucking asshole.

Ron held Hermione a little tighter as they continued dancing across the floor and when he spoke, she noticed his lips were awfully close to her ear. “You deserve someone who will respect you. Someone who will...”

“Umm, Ron?”

“Yes, Hermione.”

“Your hands are on my ass.” How she had not noticed that until now, she had no idea.

“Oh.”

“Can you remove them, please?”

“Or, vould you like me to remove them for you?” asked Malfoy, tapping him on the shoulder. “Really Veasel-ly. You are the biggest idiot I have ever met, and that is saying something.”

Malfoy smoothly cut in and led Hermione elegantly across the dance floor leaving Ron standing alone, feeling like an idiot and wondering what the hell had just happened.

“You fucking asshole.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, pussycat. Vere you enjoying the Veasel's hands on your ass.”

“No! I am talking about that kiss you assaulted me with a few minutes ago. I do not appreciate you molesting me in that manner.”

“Really? Because it seemed like you vere appreciating it a lot,” answered Malfoy sarcastically.

Hermione willed herself not to blush. “For your information, not every member of the female population wants to 'do you'. Some of us just want to 'do you in'.”

“Haffing trouble deciding vhich side you're on?”

“No! I'm all for doing you in. Why did you kiss me?”

“Because you're such an angel. Allow me to translate that for you when the spell vears off.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. Why did you really kiss me?”

“Just to fuck vith Veasel. And to see vhat you vould do. It seems you are villing to do a lot.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe the real reason you did it was to find out what you would do. Tell me Malfoy. Did it help you get in touch with your feelings?”

“How many times do I haff to tell you? It vas the fucking Stupidity Potion.”

“Oh, I'm not saying there wasn't any stupidity going on. There definitely was. It just wasn't from a potion,” said Hermione without thinking.

Malfoy looked at her uncertainly. Fuck. She hadn't meant to let it slip about the potion. Malfoy did not need to know that what they had done was what they had secretly wanted to do all along. She was sure he would react badly. She could almost see his brain working as he tried to understand her meaning. She imagined she even saw the exact moment it clicked. However, instead of the scowl she expected to see, his lips slowly curled up into a smile. And not a pleasant one at that.

“You like me,” he said with amusement and a hint of astonishment.

“I do not!” she gasped.

“You, like me,” he said, poking her in the chest just as she had done moments before to him. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“I don't like you. Not even as a friend. I think you're an asshole.”

“But you like that in a guy, don't you? You dated Krum, and you keep messing around vith those look-a-like Veasels. It's probably a requirement for you.”

“It is not. I used to like Ron, and he's not an asshole.”

“No, he's an idiot. Goyle is too, for that matter. So, you must go for assholes and idiots then.”

“And lucky for you, you have both of those qualities. Well, I must say, you are looking better and better,” she said sarcastically.

Out of the blue, Malfoy asked, “So, you don't like the Veasel anymore?”

Hermione looked at him curiously but said, “No, I'm pretty sure I don't. I didn't even notice he was grabbing my ass until halfway through the dance.” Hermione wasn't sure where this conversation was going but at least they were off the subject of her liking him.

“Does Veasel grope you a lot?” Malfoy asked with a slightly jealous tone in his voice.

“No, not usually. Just on special occasions.” She smiled at Malfoy's raised eyebrows and added, “Like when Fred and George slip him a potion.”

“Veasel's an idiot. I don't know vhat you see in him. You haff lousy taste in friends, Granger.”

“You should talk,” she shot back. “You're friends with Crabbe and Goyle.”

“Not anymore. Now my best friend is Zabini.”

“Please. You've probably never said two words to him.”

“I haff too. 'Move it, asshole.' There, that's three.”

“Alright, if he's such a good friend, what is his first name?”

“Fuck if I know.” Malfoy shrugged.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Malfoy, why are you dancing with me?”

“Oh, so you did like the Veasel's hands on your ass,” accused Malfoy.

“No,” she said, rolling her eyes again. “I'm just wondering why you cared enough to come rescue me.”

“I don't care. I'm just playing my part.”

“You know,” mused Hermione. “Viktor never got jealous of Ron. He didn't even think of him as competition. In fact, I'm pretty sure he didn't think of him at all.”

“I don't think of the Veasel as competition either,” huffed Malfoy.

“Oh, so you do like me then?” she asked, smirking at him.

“No. I think ve haff already established that you like me. Vould you care for another demonstration?”

“You wish.”

“I do not. You repulse me.”

“Yeah, why don't you tell that to your little friend there?” she said, giving a nod to little Draco.

“Don't flatter yourself, Granger. Me and my big friend here aren't all that impressed with you. So, you can keep your knickers on and stop throwing yourself at me. I am not interested.”

“I am most certainly not throwing myself at you!” declared Hermione outraged. 

“Please. You are always 'accidentally' naked in front of me. Or finding flimsy reasons to kiss me like to get rid of the hiccups or something stupid like that. You never vear any knickers around me including right now. And if that isn't enough proof for you, then how about the frigging blow job you gave me this morning?”

Hermione's mouth dropped open in anger and shock. How dare he think that she would stoop so low as to throw herself at a fucking ferret! “The only reason you have seen me naked is because you keep 'accidentally' seeing me when I am in the shower. People take showers naked, Malfoy! It's not my fault that you are a fucking pervert! And the only time I did initiate a kiss with you, really was to get rid of the hiccups. And for your information, it worked! The shock and horror of kissing you scared the hiccups right away. 

And the only reason I am not wearing knickers is because of horrible extenuating circumstances of which I have had no control. Believe me, it is not for your benefit. If you are so concerned about it though, perhaps, you can lend me the pair you keep in your fucking pocket! And as for the blow job, the only reason you got one is because I thought you were my fucking boyfriend, not because I like you. What's your excuse? You knew it was me. And while I may have swallowed the evidence, I am for damn sure that you liked it! So, if anything, it is you that are throwing yourself at me, and I am getting awfully tired of tripping over you!”

Malfoy scowled at her. “ Vhat did the potion do?”

“What?” asked Hermione, stalling for time. If Malfoy knew what the potion really did then that passionate speech she just gave wouldn't mean shit. He would know. Really know.

“Vhat did the potion do?” he asked again.

“Um, I don't know.”

“Yes, you do. I saw you vith the twins. Vhat did they tell you about the potion?”

“If you're so interested, why don't you ask them?”

“I don't vant to talk to those half-naked idiots.”

“Then I guess you're not that interested then.” Oh, God. She had to find Fred and George. They could not tell him about Cupid's Courage. She did not want Malfoy thinking she liked him, especially if it might be true. Fuck. Why did she have to go and open her big mouth anyway? She should have just left him alone in his comfortable state of denial. She had ruined everything and all because of her stupid pride.

“Vhere are you going?”

“None of your business.”

“You're going to see them aren't you?” he accused. 

“So, what if I am?”

“Vhy are you going to see them? To remove the rest of their clothes?” Malfoy asked jealously.

'I'm going to see them because they are my friends, Malfoy.” Then because she was so angry with him, she added sarcastically, “And I thought maybe I would have sex with one of them later. Probably end up tossing a coin or something. Would you like any more information? Positions? Point of entry? Contraceptive method?” 

“No. Go ahead and fuck both of them if you vant. I don't care,” said Malfoy scowling.

“Maybe I will,” huffed Hermione, stomping off to find the twins.

She didn't have to go very far before she ran right into one. Her hands landed on his bare chest. They obviously hadn't bothered to go change. No wonder Malfoy didn't want to talk to them right now.

“Hey, Hermione. You're just the girl I'm looking for.”

“I was looking for you too. I wanted to ask you... Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don't know. It's the funniest thing. All of a sudden, I have this strange compulsion to kiss you. Right here, right now,” he said, stepping closer to her.

Hermione took a step backward, stumbling slightly. Strong arms caught her, and she squeaked out, “You do?”

“I do,” he said, pulling her in closer.

Hermione didn't know what to do. It seemed one of the twins had somehow gotten a taste of their own medicine. The question was... “Which one are you?” 

“You're a smart girl. Why don't you tell me?” he asked leaning in.

And then he was kissing her. This was getting ridiculous. She had never been kissed so many times in her whole life. And now it seemed she was being kissed by George yet again, or fuck, maybe it was Fred. Oh God. What if it was Fred? It felt like George, but she just wasn't sure. Maybe twins kissed alike. They did everything fucking else the same. Well, it's not like it mattered anymore. If it was Fred, she had lost the bet, and there was nothing she could do about it now. And she had a feeling that Malfoy was watching her. She could pretty much feel his eyes boring into her. This was the perfect opportunity to prove to him that she absolutely did not like him. She might as well put on a good show and enjoy herself. Surprisingly, that wasn't all that hard to do because whoever the hell it was who was kissing her was good. Very good. 

Good enough to make her forget all about Malfoy. Well, for the time being anyway. The kiss was long and slow, and she couldn't help responding back, even though he was an evil prick, and that sentiment was appropriate no matter which twin it was. She would have to kill Fred or maybe George (depending on who the mystery kisser was) for slipping the potion to him. Of course, maybe she should kill both of them just to be safe. That thought made her smile, and George or possibly Fred took that as a positive response and deepened the kiss. Then he did something with his tongue that made her catch her breath. He pulled away and smiled down at her. “Signature move,” he said huskily.

He moved back in to continue where they had left off, and Hermione was quite prepared to let him when they were rudely interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Hermione dazedly looked up to see both twins glaring at one another. Hermione recovered enough to turn her glare on the interrupting twin. “How dare you?” she exclaimed angrily.

“What?” he innocently asked. “Enjoying yourself, were you? That was my signature move by the way. He stole it from me.”

“I wouldn't say I stole it. We're twins. We share everything. Right, Fred?” said George grinning.

“Right, George,” said Fred rather grudgingly. “Just remember that next time when I'm using your move though.”

“You mean the one where I do that thing with my...”

“Yes, that one.” Fred smirked.

“Alright,” agreed George, “but I doubt you'll get that far anyway.”

“Really? I'm feeling quite optimistic about it,” said Fred confidently.

“So, I was kissing George? Thank God,” said Hermione, clearly relieved. Hermione was so glad she hadn't lost the bet. Yet anyway.

“Ha!” taunted George, doing a little dance. “She likes me best.”

“I do not,” insisted Hermione. “I'm only glad it was you because of the whole kissing Neville thing.” Ginny totally deserved it.

“Look, Hermione,” said George with a sigh. “I only kissed Neville that one time. I'm not gay.”

“What! You kissed Neville!” exclaimed Hermione.

“Oh, you hadn't heard about that?” George asked awkwardly.

“No!”

“Well, never mind then.”

“My poor, gay brother,” said Fred, trying not to laugh. “We really must be strong for him, while he sorts out his gay feelings about Neville. The whole situation is just so, well, gay.”

“Fuck you, Fred. I only did it because you made me, and you know it,” accused George.

“No one can make you gay, George. You're just born that way. Hermione, you should probably stop kissing him so much. It's only confusing him more. If you really need to kiss someone though, I'm available.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” said Hermione dryly.

“Really pathetic, Fred. It's not going to work though. There is no way she would believe I was gay after that kiss. You're just jealous because I've already kissed her twice, and you haven't had any action yet.”

“Slow and steady wins the race, my man,” replied Fred.

“Maybe, but we all know it's the hare that gets laid. Over and over again,” said George, doing some pelvic thrusts.

“Not this time, George. The tortoise is going all the way.”

“Well, I'd watch out for the ferret if I were you. He's a fiercer competitor than I thought.”

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. Tortoises, hares and ferrets, oh my!

Yes, but I'm handsome, funny, charming, clever and nice,” said Fred. “All of the things that Malfoy is not. That is why Hermione likes me best.”

“Then perhaps she likes me best. I'm all of those things too,” insisted George.

“Yes, but you're gay.”

“Fuck off, Fred.”

“Who said I like either one of you? I think you're both evil bastards,”declared Hermione.

“And so we are,” said Fred agreeably and with a bit of pride. “Fortunately for us, you like that in a guy. You did date Viktor Krum, didn't you?”

Did everyone have to keep reminding her of that?

“Fred, has a point there, Hermione. And you do have the hots for Malfoy. Now, there's an evil bastard if there ever was one.”

“I most certainly do not have the hots for Malfoy,” huffed Hermione, quite shocked that he would think that. “He's so, so... frustrating!”

“Well, of course, you're frustrated,” said Fred. 

“Sexually frustrated,” amended George. 

“What you need is a good ...” began Fred.

“Don't even say it,” said Hermione.

“Why not?” asked Fred. “You liked my signature move, didn't you? Don't you want to experience the original and then some. I guarantee it's better than the carbon copy.”

“You want to kiss me?” asked Hermione incredulously.

“Well, not just kiss you. I wouldn't mind doing other things as well,” said Fred suggestively.

“Ugh! You are disgusting. You would kiss me right after George did?”

“”What?,” asked Fred defensively. “Should I wait until you're finished with all of the other blokes here? I'm not kissing you after Percy. Well, maybe I would.”

“You are not kissing me at all. I am mad at you.”

“Mad at me? He's the one who kissed you,” said Fred, pointing his finger at George accusingly. “I'm just an innocent unkissed bystander. One of the few here, I might add.”

“I wouldn't say you are so innocent,” said Hermione scowling.

“You can't know that for sure until you've kissed me,” quipped Fred.

“You gave George that ridiculous potion,” Hermione accused. 

“Did he tell you that, or did you just assume? Because you know what they say about that,” returned Fred.

Hermione looked over at George. “You weren't under a potion?”

“Just under your spell,” said George, trying not to laugh.

“Ugh, George. That was awful,” said Fred, grinning none the less.

“I know,” replied George, “but you'd be surprised how often that line works. What do you say, Hermione? Want to have another go?”

“I think you are both insane and totally evil,” said Hermione, glaring at both of them.

“Is that a no?”

She was about to answer with a resounding no when she noticed Percy Weasley walking rather determinedly toward her. Fred and George started snickering. 

Holding out her wand menacingly, Hermione pointed it where the sun didn't shine and ordered firmly, “Keep walking, Percy Weasley.” Needless to say, he practically ran. 

Hermione turned on the twins. “Stop giving people that fucking potion! And if Malfoy asks what it is, for Merlin's sake, don't tell him.”

“Like we would tell him,” said Fred.

“His being in denial is to our advantage. We would be idiots to tell him,” agreed George.

“That's what I am afraid of. The fact that you two are idiots.”

“That hurts, Hermione. Want to kiss and make it better?” asked Fred.

“No. I think I've done enough kissing for one day. This has been the longest wedding of my life. I'm going to bed. And before either of you ask, no, you are not invited.”

“You can't go to bed yet,” said George as though what she said was very silly indeed, “especially if you mean going to bed in the boring snoring kind of way. The party is just getting started. Now, it's time for the real fun to begin.”

“Ha! I don't think I like your idea of fun. And besides what could be more fun than doing a strip tease, completely humiliating myself and snogging half the guests at this wedding?” asked Hermione sarcastically.

Fred gave her an evil grin. “You like games, Hermione?”


	40. Terrible Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with this chapter. I am secretly addicted to fanfictions with this particular game in it. I know it's cliché, but I don't care! Hopefully, you won't find it too confusing to follow. Just remember that Malfoy still looks like Viktor Krum and only the twins know who he really is. This is a long one. Have fun!

Hermione entered Ron's room with great trepidation. Ever since the Crabbe and Goyle debacle, Hermione had an acute fear and loathing of games of any kind. And with good reason. Look what had happened last time! If anything, her dread was even worse this time around, as she had a strong feeling that any game the Weasley twins liked to play would be way more diabolical than anything Crabbe and Goyle could ever come up with. At least with strip studying, she had enjoyed half of it. The studying part, of course! Maybe she could talk the twins into playing strip studying. She'd whip their asses at that game. She had let Goyle win after all. She would not make that mistake twice.

Looking around the room, she saw everyone was sitting on the floor in a circle with Ron, Harry and Ginny on one side and Malfoy sitting with a scowl on his face on the other. The twins must have threatened him with something really good to get him there. It made her feel a little better knowing that she wouldn't be the only one being tortured that night. Hermione headed toward Ginny to sit down but then she noticed a fierce glare on Ginny's face, and it was aimed directly at her. Shit! Ginny must have somehow found out about her kiss with Harry. Things were really not looking good for the evening if that was the case. Or, for her odds at that stupid bet. Revenge Ginny was not to be trifled with. Hermione made a quick detour to sit next to Ron instead but then thought better of it. There was still one off limits place on her body he hadn't had his hands on yet, and as she wasn't wearing knickers, she wasn't risking it. Ron had awfully big hands. She shuddered just thinking about it.

That left Malfoy. Who would have thought he would be the lesser of three evils? Hermione walked toward Malfoy and attempted to sit down with some dignity, which was pretty much impossible to do in the ridiculously tight dress she was wearing. She tried bending her knees to lower herself to the floor but the farther she went down, the wider her slit got. Bending over wasn't any good either unless she wanted her boobs and her ass hanging out. So, she started leaning slowly to the side trying to get as close to the floor as she could without falling over. It was a slow process. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, but she just tried to focus on getting her hand to the floor so she could sit down without revealing too much. However, she soon found herself being pulled roughly down, flashing everyone in the process. She ended with an unceremonious plop right in Malfoy's lap.

“Just sit your ass down already,” said Malfoy, smirking at her.

She was about to say something rude to him when she suddenly felt little Draco trying to come out to play. Exaggeratedly making herself comfortable in his lap, she wiggled her ass until he groaned out loud. She turned her head toward him with a smirk of her own. “Is this where you want me to sit, sweetheart? Wait, don't tell me. I think I already know.”

Malfoy's smirk turned into a scowl but before he could retort, she was yanked off his lap and onto the floor next to him.

“No, no, no,” said one of the twins, wagging a finger in her face and sitting down next to her. “None of that yet. We're starting off with some warm up games first. You'll have to wait until later for the really naughty stuff.”

“No fair, George,” complained Fred. “Why do you get to sit next to Hermione? I'm not getting stuck next to Ginny.”

“I don't want to sit next to Ginny either,” declared George adamantly. “Tell lover boy over there to shove over. He's not related.”

“Excellent idea,” said Fred, squeezing in between Malfoy and Hermione and putting Hermione in the middle of a Fred and George sandwich. “You don't mind, do you, 'Viktor'?”

Malfoy grunted in reply.

“Now,” said George, rubbing his hands together. “What game should we start off with?”

“I don't think I'm in the mood for games,” said Hermione defiantly.

“Perhaps, you'd rather sit around looking at photo albums,” said Fred, smirking at her. “I'd be willing to share some of my favorite photos with the group.”

Hermione paled slightly. She did not want Harry and Ron seeing those pictures. She liked their friendship the way it was. So, maybe Ron did have a little crush on her. It was nothing serious. And maybe Harry and her did have a little chemistry together. It was no big deal. Bring in a picture of her naked with an owl, and who knew how it would fuck things up? 

She had to get those pictures back, or the twins would use them against her forever and then some. That kind of power in their evil hands was way too dangerous. It was worth a little humiliation just to get those horrible pictures back. Hermione liked to set goals for herself and her goal for that evening was simple. Get through these games at any cost and somehow manage to get the twins drunk off their asses in the process, so she could ransack their room later. It was her only hope. “Let's play.”

“How about we start off with something easy like Truth or Dare?” asked George.

Everyone groaned but Ginny immediately said, “I'll go first. Hermione, truth or dare?”

Shit. She definitely knew. 

“Wait a minute,” said Fred. “Let's get the rules straight first.”

George cleared his throat importantly as though he were presiding over the Triwizard Tournament and not some stupid game of Truth or Dare. “Dares have to be completed immediately. If you refuse to do them, you will be given Veritaserum, and we will ask you whatever we want for as long as we want. You will then be stripped naked and locked in a room with Percy. I know it's harsh, but the game isn't any fun if everyone wimps out on the dares.”

“As far as the truth goes,” continued Fred. “You are welcome to lie. However, if someone challenges you, you will be given Veritaserum, and we will find out the truth. If you are caught lying, you will then have to complete a dare of the challenger's choice. If you do not complete the dare, suffer the consequences and say hi to Percy for us. If you are telling the truth though, the challenger has to complete a dare of your choice.”

“And no dares with incest or homosexuality,” added George.

“You sure about that last one, George,” joked Fred.

“Positive, unless Hermione and Ginny are interested,” replied George, winking at Hermione.

“I don't think so,” replied Ginny stonily. “I think Hermione has enough people kissing her ass without me doing it as well. Speaking of that, what's it going to be, Hermione? Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” she grudgingly replied. There was no way in hell she was taking a dare from Ginny, especially when she was this angry. And she already knew what Ginny's question was going to be. She'd have to answer it sooner or later anyway. Might as well suck it up and get it over with.

“Did you and Harry kiss?”

Hermione bit her lip but answered meekly, ”Yes.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Malfoy smirking about it. It dawned on her that he was thinking about that other ill fated kiss when she and Harry had been studying. Malfoy obviously had no idea about the one that had happened that night. Not yet anyway. 

“I'm really sorry, Ginny,” said Hermione with as much sincerity as she could fake. “It was all Fred and George's fault. They spiked the pumpkin juice. In fact, 'Viktor' I owe you an apology as well. You see, Harry and I kissed only moments before you and I did. So, really, it's like you kissed Harry, too.”

Sometimes the truth hurts and sometimes it just makes you want to puke your guts out. Malfoy immediately started gagging and choking at that terrible bit of truth and quickly reached out to the center of the circle for one of the bottles of firewhisky the twins had set out. He poured himself a big glass and downed it in one gulp. Hermione couldn't help smirking at him. Unfortunately, Ginny noticed.

“Your turn, Harry,” said Fred.

“Alright. Ron, truth or dare?”

“Who me?” asked Ron, who hadn't been paying attention as he had been too busy staring at Hermione's chest. Again. “Truth.”

“Do you have a crush on anybody in this room?”

Ron glared at Harry but answered, “Yes.”

“Oh God, who could it be?” gasped George mockingly.

“Way to shake up the game, Harry,” replied Fred sarcastically.

“Your turn little bro. Let's try to be a little more creative, shall we?” said George.

“Okay, George,” said Ron with an evil glint in his eye. “Truth or dare?”

“Unlike the rest of you wusses, I'm up for a little dare.”

“I dare you to run stark naked through the house singing the Hogwarts School song,” said Ron smugly.

George grinned and started stripping, which wasn't difficult to do as he was still only wearing boxer shorts and a bow tie. Hermione and Ginny put their hands over their eyes, but Hermione secretly peeked through her fingers. George ran out of the room, singing at the top of his lungs. Not long after he started, they could hear Mrs. Weasley yelling at him from downstairs. The calming draught was definitely wearing off.

“George Weasley! What on earth do you think you're doing running around in your birthday suit at this time of night?”

“Too late for running around in my birthday suit? Sorry, Mum, I wasn't aware there was a curfew on that,” replied George jokingly.

“Don't be pert with me, George,” snapped Mrs. Weasley.

“I'm not George. It's me, Fred. Really, you call yourself my mother, and you can't even recognize your own son in his birthday suit.”

“Sorry, Fred dear. I couldn't see your mole in the dark. Now get back upstairs and get Mr. Perky Pants into some jammies before you wake Fleur's parents, and they think their daughter has married into a crazy family.”

“We can't hide the truth from them forever, Mum,” yelled George, running back up the stairs two at a time. He hummed the Hogwarts school song the rest of the way back to Ron's room and only stopped briefly to salute Fleur's parents, who were standing in their doorway looking at him with shocked expressions on their faces.

Everyone but Fred burst out laughing when he came back into the room. “What's the idea telling Mum that was me?”

“Well, I couldn't very well say it was me, now could I?” asked George, putting his boxer shorts back on before sitting down with the rest of the group.

“No, I suppose not,” agreed Fred reluctantly. “It's bloody bullshit though.”

“So, Fred,” said Hermione, unable to stop smiling. “Where's this mole of yours? Or, should I be asking Mr. Perky Pants?”

Fred raised his eyebrows up and down. “Why don't you come back to my room, and I'll give you a private showing?”

“No thanks. I think I'll pass,” replied Hermione, rolling her eyes.

“We'll talk when 'Viktor's' not around,” said Fred in an exaggerated whisper, giving her a wink.

“My turn. Let's see. Who should I go with?” wondered George out loud, looking carefully around the group for the next victim. Before he could decide though, an origami butterfly floated into his lap. He opened it and read it silently, but everyone could see by the expression on his face that he clearly found it amusing. “I guess I will have to go with the revengeful bitch just to keep things interesting. Ginny, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” said Ginny, looking triumphantly over at Hermione.

Hermione closed her eyes and waited. She had no idea what Ginny could possibly be up to.

“Ginny, I dare you to kiss Krum.”

Hermione's eyes flew open. What! She looked over at Malfoy and saw an expression of disgust and fear on his face. For some reason, this comforted her. A little. Unable to tear her eyes away, she watched in horror as Ginny lunged at Malfoy and proceeded to eat his face off. Ginny vigorously completed the dare with an open mouth kiss that lasted way longer than was necessary. Hermione felt sick to her stomach. She told herself it was because she didn't like public displays of affection. Who didn't want to puke when they saw something as vulgar and horrifying as the disgusting event that was, at that very moment, taking place right in front of her face? 

And the acute jealousy she was feeling was probably only because she knew that Ginny really believed she was kissing Viktor, who was her boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend, but Ginny didn't know that. And who wouldn't be jealous if another girl was going after their boyfriend? For all intensive purposes, Malfoy was her boyfriend and Ginny was taking what belonged to her. He was hers! And she was sticking her fucking tongue down his throat. And it didn't seem like she was ever going to stop. Why wouldn't she just... 

“Stop!” 

Everyone turned and looked at Hermione, including Ginny. Malfoy took the opportunity to down another shot of firewhisky and wipe his mouth with his sleeve.

Recovering slightly, Hermione said calmly, “Now that you've fulfilled the requirements of the dare, I believe it is my turn.” 

An origami butterfly hit her in the head. She opened it up and read it to herself with pursed lips. It said simply, “Now, we're even.”

“Fine,” Hermione snapped. “Fred, truth or dare?”

“What can I dare do for you, my dear,” answered Fred with a slight bow in her direction.

“I dare you to send an owl to Professor McGonagall along with a pair of Ginny's knickers and request that the professor wear them to the next Order meeting and to let you know she's wearing them by grabbing your crotch under the table.”

“Shit. That's brutal,” said George. “Brilliant though.”

Fred hopped up and ran out of the room. He came back with a black lace thong hanging from his finger.

“Hey, I was saving that,” cried Ginny.

“Oh yeah? For what?” asked Fred, raising his eyebrows.

Ginny blushed. “For nothing,” she spat.

“I thought so,” replied Fred, giving her a smug look. “Besides, I couldn't use any of your granny panties. I had to have something special to send McGonagall. If I'm going to do this, I am going to do it right. And McGonagall in a thong is just so wrong, it's right.”

Swinging Ginny's knickers on his finger, Fred went over to Ron's desk and grabbed a piece of parchment to pen his letter. Dipping his quill in the ink, he dramatically read the words aloud as he wrote them. 

_My dearest Minerva,_

__

__

_I am sending you this somewhat slutty token of my esteem in the hopes that you will fulfill this completely out of line fantasy, which I wasn't even aware I was harboring until quite recently, and wear them to the next Order Meeting. As the last meeting was rather dull, I thought this would spice things up a bit. If you do honor my most humble, yet sleazy request, please let me know by grabbing my crotch under the table to indicate that you are wearing the knickers. That should be ample acknowledgment. Be gentle please. I eagerly await your reply._

__

__

_Your favorite twin (the handsome one),_

_Fred Weasley_

Not long after Fred completed his dare and sent Pig off to Hogwarts with his letter, he received the following reply:

_Dear Mr. Weasley,_

_As I am no longer your teacher, I feel it is perfectly acceptable to answer your most impertinent request. And as it is late, and I am now in my Tartan dressing gown enjoying an entire bottle of sherry, I have no qualms in telling you my real feelings on this issue. I have fantasies too, Mr. Weasley. However, mine is a twin fantasy involving you and your identical partner in crime, a locked broom closet, a roll of Muggle duck tape and an entire box of your infamous Weasley Wildfire Whizbangs._

_I have given your slutty token to Mr. Filch to dispose of as he sees fit. He seemed quite eager for the assignment. Please refrain from sending me such tokens in the future. For your information, I do not wear knickers as they cause chafing. So, if I do grab your crotch under the table at the next Order meeting, it will be completely coincidental. Goodnight, Mr. Weasley._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

Everyone burst out laughing. “Ooh, shot down by McGonagall,” George joked.

“Shut up, George. You read the letter, there could still be some crotch grabbing going on.”

“And she is interested in some banging in the broom closet,” added Ron, loudly guffawing.

“Ugh,” said Ginny. “Filch has a pair of my knickers.”

Eager to move the game along, Fred slapped Malfoy on the back and said, “So, guest of Hermione's. Truth or dare?”

“Come on, 'Krum'. Be a man for once and pick dare,” George taunted.

“Truth,” answered Malfoy, scowling.

“Wuss,” muttered George.

“That's alright, George. I was actually hoping he would wimp out and pick truth. There's something I have been dying to know, and this fellow here is the perfect one to tell me. I am very curious after all. Have you and Hermione ever shagged?”

Everyone looked at Malfoy with rapt attention. Hermione watched as Viktor's face paled to Malfoy's normal skin color. He was obviously struggling with his answer and was probably wishing he had followed through with that quickie under the table after all. Because whether he hated her or not, admitting that he hadn't done the dirty deed with her yet was mortifying at best for his chauvinistic male ego. There was, of course, always the option of lying (what hot blooded male with any kind of respectable reputation hadn't done that before?) but then he risked Hermione or maybe one of the twins calling him out on it. And in his mind, Veritaserum and Percy Weasley were completely out of the question. Best to tell the truth and spin it in his favor as much as possible.

“No. Ve haff not shagged yet but not for her lack of trying. I am a gentleman. I vill not take advantage of her horniness or her love for me. There are lots of other girls I can have meaningless sex with without the strings attached.”

“That is a lie,” cried Hermione furiously. “I am not some pathetic love sick girl trying to force myself on him. He is a fucking liar.”

“Do I hear a challenge?” asked George hopefully.

Rather grudgingly, Hermione said, “No.” She didn't really want to test the Veritaserum. Maybe she really was that pathetic. Fucking Malfoy.

As Hermione, sat there stewing in her own miserable thoughts, another paper butterfly hit her in the head. This one said, “Who the fuck did I just kiss!” Hermione looked up to see Ginny glaring suspiciously at Malfoy. Hermione vindictively penned her reply and instead of using magic, crumbled up the beautiful origami butterfly and threw it right in Ginny's face. With very little pity, Hermione watched Ginny's eyes go wide with horror as she read the words, “Malfoy. And it serves you fucking right!”

Reaching for a glass, Ginny generously poured herself some firewhisky until her glass was three-quarters of the way full. Then thinking better of it, filled it all the way up to the top. She had just kissed a Slytherin after all. As Ron would say, “Bloody Hell.” Ginny then somehow scooted even closer to Harry, scowled menacingly at Malfoy and Hermione and chugged the entire contents of her drink, all at the same time. She always was good at multi-tasking.

George sighed dramatically. “Well, that was the lamest game of Truth or Dare I've ever played. Fred and I were the only ones to do anything interesting, and I was the only one who got naked. What bloody good does that do me? I say we move on to another game.”

“Vait a minute. I haven't gone yet,” said Malfoy.

“Oh, very well,” agreed George grudgingly. “It had better be good though.”

“This vone is for you, dear,” said Malfoy, smirking evilly at Hermione. “Truth or Dare?”

Bastard. “Truth,” snapped Hermione.

“Name one person you haff had sex vith.”

Shit! Malfoy really was an evil little bastard. He knew she couldn't say Viktor. He had just announced to everyone that they hadn't had sex yet, so it would completely blow her fucking plan if she named him. Fred and George already knew that “Viktor” was really Malfoy and Ginny, of course, had just found out the hard way, much to Hermione's delight. That left Harry and Ron. If they found out, her plan would be a complete and utter failure. She would fail at something. Fail! And failure was not an option for Hermione Granger. So, she said the only thing she could under the circumstances, because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't think of his fucking first name. “Goyle.”

As Harry and Ron stared at her with open mouth horror, Hermione fervently found herself wishing she had been just a little bit looser. If she had fucked just one more guy she wouldn't be in this situation now. She could have wiped Malfoy's smirk right off his face by saying some other loser's name like Seamus Finnigan or Terry fucking Boot. Hell, she should have shagged Blaise Zabini that night at Slughorn's party when he pulled her into the broom closet. He would have fucked her in a heartbeat. See if Malfoy would still want to be best friends with him then! At the time, however, a quick shag in the broom closet wasn't quite up to her standards. That of course was still when she actually had romantic sensibilities. Now, not so much. Men were fucking pigs.

“You're joking, right?” asked Ron, clearly in shock.

“No?” Hermione was going for ambiguity, but then she looked around and saw Malfoy, Fred and George all ready to challenge. So, she stated it a bit more firmly, “No, I am not joking.”

“You had sex with Goyle?” asked Ron in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Malfoy's thug?”

“Yes.”

“The one we Polyjuiced second-year?”

“Yes.”

“Without the Imperius?”

“Yes.”

“Willingly?”

“Yes.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” yelled Ron.

“Yes. More than likely.”

“I can't believe you! You always act like you are too smart for me. Like I am too much of an idiot for you to even consider being with and then you go and fuck someone like bloody Goyle. It's insulting; that's what it is!” exclaimed Ron angrily.

“I never said I was too smart for you, Ronald Weasley! Of course, when you say stupid things like that, it's quite obvious that I am! I waited for years for you to make a move. And then, when you finally do make a move, it's with Lavender Brown, the Gryffindor slag!”

“That's not fair, Hermione,” said Ron. “Unlike you, Lavender showed interest in me. She made me feel special.”

“I'll bet she did,” said Hermione sarcastically.

“It wasn't like that. Not all of the time anyway,” said Ron sheepishly. “She's a nice girl, really.”

“Well, Goyle is... Well, he's not nice per say, but he's not completely evil. And he's not stupid either. He's quite devious and clever actually.”

“You like him?” asked Ron in disbelief.

“He is... tolerable, I suppose.” Hermione had always wanted to say that. Pride and Prejudice was her favorite book, and it somehow seemed fitting here. She smiled thinking about it. And then her smile got just a bit wider when she noticed Malfoy's scowl deepen. 

“I can't believe you would do this to us, Hermione. He's a Slytherin!”

“I know. Slytherins are evil, slimy, horrible, miserable excuses for wizards. Blah, blah, blah. I get it, but it was only one night, and it's never going to happen again. So, just get over it already,” replied Hermione exasperatedly.

“I don't know how you expect us to get over it when you slept with the enemy,” huffed Ron.

“You seem to be the only one who really cares, Ron,” said Hermione. “Harry's not overreacting like you are.”

“Harry likes to keep things bottled up,” said Ron, “And I'm pretty sure your boyfriend over there cares. He looks about ready to pummel Goyle's face in.”

Hermione looked over at Malfoy. He really did look like the jealous boyfriend. It was a wonder that steam wasn't coming out of his ears. However, whether his anger was about Goyle or their disparaging words against Slytherins, she wasn't quite sure. And she didn't really care. She hoped he was miserable. He shouldn't have made her talk about Goyle. It was his own fault if he didn't like hearing about it. If Ron wasn't such a hot head, she might even give out some sordid details just to piss Malfoy off. “I'm not very concerned about 'Viktor'. He already knew about Goyle. So, he has no business being angry about it, especially since he was the one who brought it up in the first place.”

“Well, what about me?” asked Ron. “Don't I have a right to be angry?”

“It was an accident. I didn't do it on purpose.”

“How do you accidentally have sex?”

“I don't know. Why don't you ask 'Viktor' over there. He seems to know all about it,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

“Why would I talk to him?” asked Ron rudely. “He obviously has no idea about your sex life.”

“Shut up, Veasel-ly. Ve may not have had sex... yet, but ve have done other… things.”

“Like what?” asked Ron angrily.

“Like none of your business, Ron,” interrupted Hermione.

“Obviously, you do a lot of things and people that aren't any of our business. Like Goyle for instance.”

“Well,” interrupted Harry, trying to diffuse the situation. “It could have been worse.”

“I don't see how,” huffed Ron.

“Well, at least she didn't have sex with Malfoy.”

“Here, here,” said George, raising a glass and laughing at Malfoy. “To not having sex with the biggest prick in Slytherin.”

“I'll drink to that,” said Fred, pouring himself a drink.

“Ha! That's what's missing,” exclaimed George excitedly.

“What?” asked Fred.

“Think about it, Fred. If it's drunken debauchery we hunt...” began George.

“It's firewhisky we want,” finished Fred, grinning madly.

“Start pouring, my boy,” said George, passing out the rest of the glasses.

Fred got to Hermione's glass and filled it all the way to the top. “Ah, a drunken Hermione. Why ever didn't we think of it earlier?”

“She doesn't drink,” said Malfoy, pushing the glass away.

Hermione glared at him angrily. “Yes, I do,” she said through clenched teeth, grabbing for her drink. She did not like being told what to do, especially by Malfoy. She could take care of herself and with the help of some drinking games, she could take care of the twins as well. This was the perfect opportunity to take out the twins, so she could ransack their room later, and as usual, Malfoy was fucking things up for her.

“No, you don't,” Malfoy said firmly, sliding back the glass.

“Your opinion on this, or anything for that matter, is not needed or wanted,” replied Hermione, trying to get her glass back.

He held onto the glass tightly. Their fingers were touching. “I thought you had a bad reaction to alcohol,” said Malfoy pointedly. “I thought you vere never going to drink again.”

“I've changed my mind,” replied Hermione flippantly, trying to ignore the electricity she was feeling from their fingertips.

“No.”

“A woman has a right to change her mind.”

“I vill not allow it.”

“You are not the boss of me, 'Viktor'!” exclaimed Hermione.

“Haff you forgotten vhat happened last time you drank?”

“No, I have not. I remember it quite well. Perhaps tonight, I will have double the fun,” she said angrily, pulling her glass out of Malfoy's hand and sloshing it all over Fred in the process.

“Thanks for the drink,” said Fred good naturedly. “Now, although that battle of wills was quite amusing, and I did have a spectacular view down Hermione's dress, I think it's time for a new game.”

“And,” continued George, “since this group is so obsessed with finding out the truth, we have just the thing to liven up this party.”

“It's a great new product,” said Fred.

“Not even on the shelves yet,” added George.

Fred ginned. “We call it...”

“Truth Bubbles!” finished Fred and George together.

“No!” cried Hermione and Malfoy.

“Oh, have you already played it?” asked George disappointed.

“Well, some of us have,” replied Hermione bitterly.

“And some of us aren't going to,” replied Malfoy.

“Then I guess we'll have to go with the old stand by,” said Fred.

“I've Never it is,” said George.

“What is 'I've Never'?” asked Hermione suspiciously.

“Shall we give her an example?” asked Fred, grinning mischievously.

“I've never played the drinking game I've Never before,” said George, raising his glass and taking a drink. Fred, Ginny, Harry and Ron all took a drink as well.

“It's simple,” said Fred. “Someone says they've never done something and then anyone who has, has to take a drink. It looks like you and 'Viktor' are the only virgins here.” 

“Well, in this case anyway,” joked George.

“And if you have done it, you will take a drink. These glasses are charmed,” explained Fred.

“So,” said George. “You guys can spill all of the terrible truths you want, and we can get Hermione, I mean everyone, completely wasted.”

Hermione glared at him. She wasn't sure she liked this game, but it was a good opportunity to get the twins drunk off their asses. There probably wasn't much they hadn't done. 

“Alright, I'll go first,” said Hermione, giving George a particularly evil look. She would have to drink on this one as well, but it was completely worth it. “I've never kissed Neville.” 

As she suspected, she found herself and George drinking. Ginny was drinking too, which wasn't all that surprising as she had gone to the Yule Ball with Neville. He had probably cornered her there. What she did not expect, however, was that both Ron and Harry were drinking as well. Bloody hell!

“Fred made us,” said Ron defensively.

“Lost a bet,” added Harry sheepishly.

“Told you I wasn't gay,” whispered George to Hermione before sending a glare to his twin.

“Like I care,” whispered back Hermione angrily. She was disappointed she hadn't humiliated George like she had wanted to. The twins were too unflappable. It wasn't normal.”

“I've never seen Hermione naked,” said Fred, smiling and taking a drink. Hermione, of course, had to drink to that, but she started choking on her firewhisky when she noticed that everyone else was drinking too. She glared at Ron and Harry.

“Accident,” choked Harry.

“What he said,” muttered Ron, avoiding eye contact and taking another drink.

“I haff never kissed Harry Potter...”

“I think you should technically drink to that,” interrupted Hermione, smirking. 

“More than once,” finished Malfoy, smirking back at her.

Ginny and Hermione both drank. Ginny was not happy about Hermione having kissed Harry more than once. Her Harry. “I've never given a blow job this morning.”

“That's not even a proper sentence,” muttered Hermione, taking a drink.

“Is that what you were doing with Fred this morning?” asked Ron angrily.

“No,” responded Hermione immediately.

“Unfortunately.” Fred sighed. “Maybe tomorrow morning.”

“No.” Hermione responded again.

Harry cleared his throat and slightly embarrassed said, ”I've never had sex.” He watched Ginny intently and looked quite relieved when Ginny didn't drink either.

“Aww, the two virgin love birds,” sighed George dramatically. “No surprise there though. The question is, who would shag our little Ronnikins?”

Ron pointedly ignored him and said, “I've never given Fred a blow job.” He watched to see if Hermione would drink and when she didn't, he turned his glare on 'Viktor'. 

“I already told you it wasn't Fred,” said Hermione, glaring at him for not trusting her.

“Yeah, you're such an idiot, Ron,” said George, clearly amused and in the mood to cause trouble. “It was obviously Harry.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Harry. “Don't bring me into this,” he said, shrinking back from the glares he was receiving from both Ron and Ginny.

“It was my boyfriend, you twat,” said Hermione angrily.

Ginny raised her eyebrows and looked over at Malfoy curiously.

“Alright,” said George. “Let's find out who would degrade themselves enough to have sex with Ron. I've never had sex with Lavender.

Surprisingly, no one drank. That made Hermione curious. “I've never had sex with Parvarti,” she offered.

Ron didn't drink, but Malfoy did. He responded to Hermione's glare with a shrug. “It could haff been her sister.”

“Let's not waste all of our 'nevers' on Ron. It could have been any silly schoolgirl at Hogwarts,” said Fred. “Let's find out something good. I've never had sex with a teacher.” He was looking at Hermione when he said it, but Ron was the one to drink.

“Holy shit,” exclaimed George.

“Completely unexpected,” agreed Fred.

Everyone started shouting out names.

“Sprout!”

“McGonagall!”

“Hey, she's mine,” said Fred in mock indignation.

“Sinistra!”

“Flitwick!” yelled George excitedly.

“Fuck off, George,” said Ron, growing red in the face.

“Well, someone in the family is bound to be gay, and it's definitely not me,” George said, winking at Hermione.

“If you must know, it was Trelawney,” muttered Ron.

“Merlin, Ron!” exclaimed Hermione. “I can't believe you would do that. With her!”

“Well, I was coming back late from the kitchens, and I bumped into her. She had been drinking rather a lot of sherry, and she had had this premonition...”

“Stop right there,” shouted Hermione. “I don't want to hear anymore. And I don't want to hear anymore about Goyle either. You had sex with a... with a teacher!”

'You are such a hypocrite, Hermione,” said Ron angrily. “I've seen how you are with Snape.”

You were probably too busy chugging your firewhisky to notice, but I didn't drink on that question, Ron,” retorted Hermione just as angrily.

“Probably because you only gave him a blow job,” muttered Ron.

“That's it!” yelled Hermione, making a lunge for Ron. She would have kicked his ass too, but Fred and George both reached out for her and pulled her back.

“We're not taking Ron's side or anything, but murder would kind of put a damper on our games,” said George, “and we haven't gotten to the good part yet.”

“Besides,” said Fred, rubbing her back soothingly, “we can get him shit faced and do stuff to him while he's passed out later if that makes you feel better. We do it all the time.”

“Alright, let's get a move on,” said Ginny impatiently. “Your turn, asshole,” she said to Malfoy.

Malfoy started to scowl at her but then gave her an evil smile instead. “I haff never kissed Draco Malfoy.”

All of the color drained from Ginny's face. Harry and Ron would never forgive her for this. She was in deep shit. She tried to fight it, but couldn't. She ended up taking a long drink that she swallowed down the wrong way. However, when she recovered enough from her coughing fit to look up and see Harry and Ron's outraged faces, she quickly took another one. 

“You kissed Malfoy?” Harry barely choked out.

“I'm so sorry, Harry. It was an accident. I swear!” 

Hermione snorted. Maybe she should feel sorry for Ginny especially since she had taken the heat off of her. No one had even seemed to notice that she had had to drink on that one as well. However, Hermione wasn't that big of person. Ginny deserved this. That's what she got for messing around with her boyfriend, um, Malfoy.

Ginny glared at Hermione but took Harry's hands in hers. “He tricked me. He used Polyjuice. I didn't even know it was him. I would never kiss Malfoy willingly. Not like Hermione did.”

“You kissed Malfoy!” exclaimed both Ron and Harry, rounding on her. 

“Don't forget Ginny. She kissed him too, remember?”

“But Ginny was tricked,” said Harry, defending Ginny. “And she doesn't know him like you do. You know better. This is even worse than the whole Goyle thing. That was sick, but this is twisted. Malfoy is our enemy. I can't believe you would do something like this.”

“You are a traitor,” Ron declared.

“So says the teacher shagging idiot,” said Hermione snidely before she turned toward Harry pleadingly. “I was under the influence of a potion, I swear. You don't really think I would ever kiss Malfoy if I wasn't under a potion, do you?” It was rather convenient that she had been under a potion both times she had kissed Malfoy. So what if the Truth Bubbles and Cupid's Courage weren't technically responsible for the actual kissing. Harry didn't need to know that. And Malfoy had kissed her that other time. So what if she had responded back rather vigorously. Harry didn't need to know that either.

“I'm sorry, Hermione,” said Harry. “Of course, you wouldn't kiss that prat if you weren't under some sort of potion. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions.”

“It's alright, Harry. I forgive you,” said Hermione, sending a glare toward Ron.

“I guess it's my turn,” said Ginny, looking like the completely evil bitch she was. Hermione was worried that Ginny was going to out her on the whole Malfoy thing, but Ginny turned her wrath on Malfoy instead. Ginny looked right at him and said as sweetly as she could, “At least I have never given Malfoy a hand job.”

To his humiliation, Malfoy found himself to be the only one drinking to that. Ginny looked at him triumphantly. Harry and Ron looked aghast and scooted as far away from him as possible. And Fred, George and Hermione all fell on the floor laughing.

Malfoy was not amused. “Vell, at least I haff never given Malfoy a fucking blow job.”

Hermione was forced to take a drink. “You fucking asshole. It wasn't your turn!”

“Oops,” he replied.

“Oh, yeah,” said Hermione vindictively. “I've never been in Crabbe's pants!”

Horrified, Malfoy found himself taking a drink thanks to the fucking ferret episode. “I haff never had sex dreams about Professor Snape!”

Hermione drank and Ron said, “I knew it!”

“Shut up, Ron! I have never had pink hair!”

Malfoy drank and Fred said, “Oh, that's what was different about him.”

“I thought it was just a haircut,” offered George.

“I haff never laid an egg!”

Hermione and Fred both drank. Fred looked a little squeamish. “I was the tester for that one. Bloody horrible.”

“I have never tried to kill someone,” said Hermione vengefully.

Malfoy drank and then spat, “I haff never wrestled an owl naked.”

Hermione took her drink and then said with a smirk, “I have never enjoyed watching someone wrestle an owl naked.”

Malfoy, Fred and George all drank to that. Bloody perverts.

Malfoy got an evil look on his face and leaned in close to her to say, “I haff never let a painting touch my va-gi-na.” He drew out the last word much to Hermione's humiliation. It was so irritating and yet fucking hot when he said it like that!

Hermione angrily slammed down her drink, nearly choking on it. Then probably as a result of her severe state of tipsiness and the murderous feelings she was harboring for Malfoy, she said something she really wished she hadn't. “I have never been in love!” All but two downed their glasses. Shit!


	41. Dastardly Dares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truth or Dare didn't have nearly enough dares last chapter, so George and I made up our own game! However just to warn you, things got a little crazy (surprising right?) and a small scene in this chapter got just a teensy weensy bit violent. What kind of drunken evening would it be without some kind of brawl! It's only meant in fun! This is a really, really long one, so enjoy!

“Thank Merlin,” said George, heaving a big sigh of relief. “Too bad for you suckers though.”

“Oh, Harry,” said Ginny, throwing her arms around his neck. “I knew it!”

“I'm pretty sure we all knew it,” replied George sarcastically.

“Bloody hell,” said Ron to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Why can't I be in love?” whined Fred. “Why is it always the common people?”

“Count your lucky stars that it's only lust, mate,” answered George knowingly. “You wouldn't want to end up like those poor miserable bastards,” he said, nodding his head toward Malfoy and Hermione, who both looked like they were going to throw up.

“Fuck! Do you realize what this means, George?” asked Fred in alarm.

“That it really is only fools that fall in love?”

“No. Well, maybe, but that's not what I meant.” Fred leaned across Hermione's lap to whisper in George's ear. 

“The fucking ferret is making a sprint for the finish line.”

“By Fred, I think you're right!” cried George. “We can't let that prick win, can we?”

“Hell, no!”

“Well, I don't know,” began George hesitantly. “It would be kind of cruel. What about true love and all that shit?” 

“Like you really give a fuck about that,” replied Fred, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, I was just joking,” said George, grinning. “So, what's the plan?”

“Well, first off, we should probably stop sabotaging ourselves.”

“Right,” agreed George.

“No more pranks that end in Malfoy getting blowed,” stated Fred firmly.

“Yeah, that sucked.”

“And no more Cupid's Courage,” continued Fred. “There's a reason Slytherins don't have any to begin with.”

“Slimy, cowardly gits, the lot of them.”

“And above all,” said Fred. “No more truth.”

“I hear its overrated, anyway.” George smirked.

“So, any ideas?” asked Fred hopefully.

George started like he had an idea and then slumped his shoulders in defeat, “Nope, I got nothing.”

“Me either.” Fred rested his head in Hermione's lap and absentmindedly started drawing circles on her leg. “Well, we'd better come up with something brilliant quick, or we're both going to end up losing to the the biggest loser ever.”

Hermione finally came out of her stupor and realized that Fred was lying across her lap. “Get the fuck off me,” she said irritably, pushing him away.

“Are you immune to my charms so soon?” asked Fred in mock hurt. “You only just realized that you are in love with him, and I'm already being tossed aside.”

“I am not in love with him,” said Hermione firmly, perhaps more to herself than to Fred.

Fred exaggeratedly mimed taking a large drink from his imaginary glass and shot her a knowing look.”

Hermione took a deep cleansing breath and spoke loud enough for Malfoy, who was already eavesdropping, to overhear. “I may have fancied myself in love with Viktor a long time ago but believe me, I am over it. 'He',” said Hermione, pointing at Malfoy,” is a complete prat, and I absolutely refuse to be in love with him.”

Glaring, Malfoy said, “I vonder vich whore I vas in love vith.”

“Maybe it was Padma,” said Hermione snidely. 

“Who?”

“Oh, sod off,” exclaimed Hermione angrily, crossing her arms across her chest and refusing to look at him anymore. Stupid ferret.

Ginny took this opportunity to have a little heart to heart with Hermione. “Accidentally” knocking into Malfoy with her big ass dress, Ginny pulled Hermione by the arm, dragging Hermione's ass literally across the floor away from the rest of the group for a little private girl talk.

“Hey! What are you doing?” protested Hermione.

“I can't believe you and Malfoy are in love!” hissed Ginny.

“Who said we're in love?” Hermione hissed back.

Like her brother, Ginny pretended to knock back an imaginary glass of firewhisky. 

“You and Fred should become professional mimes. You're fucking hilarious.”

“Whatever,” huffed Ginny. “The point is, you both drank. I hardly think it's a coincidence.”

“Think what you want, but I am positive it must have been Viktor that I was in love with. It had to be.”

“Hermione, you are such a liar. And I don't know whether you are lying to me or to yourself. You know very well that you were never in love with Viktor Krum.”

“I don't know what you are talking about,” said Hermione stubbornly.

“Oh, Ginny,” said Ginny in her annoying, high-pitched impression of Hermione. “What am I going to do? Viktor wants to have s-e-x with me, but I don't love him. How can I let him deflower me when I know he's not the one?”

“Shut up. I never said deflower,” muttered Hermione.

“Again, you are missing the point. You told me that you didn't love him.”

“That doesn't prove anything. I told you that before Viktor and I had sex. Maybe I fell in love with him after he stuck his big penis inside of me!”

“You just said penis,” said Ginny in shock. “I hate to say this, but I think I like you more now that you are in love with Malfoy than when you were just an ordinary, run of the mill, ferret-hating Gryffindor.”

“Stop saying that I am in love with him! It makes me feel ill.”

“You loooove him.”

“Shut up, Ginny. You don't know what you are talking about.”

“You kissed him, didn't you?”

“So did you,” Hermione pointed out.

“Yes, but I didn't know who it was at the time, and besides I didn't enjoy it,” said Ginny matter of factly. “You did.”

“That hardly signifies love.”

“Ha! So, you did enjoy it!”

“Ginny, be quiet!” Hermione whispered loudly. “I don't want him thinking that I think it meant anything because I most certainly don't think it meant anything at all.”

“Hermione, for someone who is so smart, you are such an idiot. It's obvious that he's in love with you, too.”

“Please, he's probably only in love with himself,” replied Hermione sarcastically. “He's a vain, selfish prick, and I highly doubt he's even capable of loving anyone else.”

“He stares at you all of the time.”

“So what? Ron stares at me too. Does that mean he's in love with me?” Hermione asked sarcastically. And then a horrifying thought occurred to her. “Oh, God. You don't think Ron is in love with me, do you?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “He doesn't stare at you the way Malfoy does. Ron stares at your chest. Or sometimes your ass. He is an idiotic, hormone-driven teenage boy. Merlin help whoever he is in love with, because knowing him, he probably won't figure it out for another ten years. Malfoy really looks at you though, like he's looking into your soul.”

Hermione laughed cynically. “You've been reading too many romance novels. Believe me, Malfoy is not romantic, and he's not that deep either. If he was looking for my soul, it would only be so he could hand it over to the Dementors. And if he is staring at me, which I doubt, he's probably just plotting ways to kill me or maybe attempting to Avada me by sheer will. He hates me.” Of course, Hermione wasn't so sure about that anymore, but she didn't like to think about it too much and Ginny, sure as hell, didn't need to know about it. She was such a nosy, little bitch.

“Come on,” pleaded Ginny. “I'm your best friend. Alright, maybe not best friend but at least third or fourth in line for it, and you can't talk to Harry or Ron about something like this. Especially not Ron. They're still mad at you for fooling around with Malfoy. They would completely shit if they knew you were actually in love with the prat. Oh my God! That's it. You and Malfoy are having a secret love affair! I thought it was Remus, which would have been good, but this is epic!”

“Malfoy and I are not having a secret love affair and Remus... Really? You obviously belong in St. Mungo's because you are clearly insane.”

“I don't know what's so far fetched about you and Remus,” insisted Ginny. “I think you two would be perfect together. Sure he's kind of old, but he's still hot and the way you act, you might as well be old. He's smart, sexy and really nice, yet he still has that whole danger thing going on because of his being a werewolf and all. And you're good with animals.”

“Ginny! That is a completely bigoted thing to say!”

“I don't see why. A wolf is an animal you know,” replied Ginny, rolling her eyes.

“Lycanthropy is a serious condition,” Hermione reprimanded, “and the people who suffer from it not only experience the painful transformation of turning into a wolf whenever there is a full moon, but they also must endure the stereotypes and prejudices...”

“That's another thing you two have in common,” interrupted Ginny. “You're both too serious and like to lecture a lot. Come to think of it, you two would be terrible together. Two fun-sucking, lecturing old people. And the sex would probably be boring too, except during a full moon, of course,” she said with a wink.”

“Ginny, you are disgusting!”

“Now, who's being bigoted?”

“Oh, never mind,” said Hermione exasperatedly.

“I bet the sex with Malfoy would be good,” mused Ginny.

“I wouldn't know,” Hermione huffed.

“But I bet you'd like to,” said Ginny in a sing song voice.

“No comment.”

“I'll take that as a yes. You know, Hermione, I do owe you a favor. You did get Harry to admit he loves me.”

“So, you're going to help me get back the pictures?” asked Hermione hopefully.

“Better. I am going to play matchmaker.”

“Forget it. I don't want to be set up with Malfoy.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” said Ginny. “Of course you do. You should have seen your face when you yelled at me to stop kissing him. You were positively green with jealousy. Slytherin green.”

“I wasn't jealous,” Hermione protested. “I just wanted to take my turn. It was my turn!”

“It's so sad how much in denial you are. I bet Malfoy is the same way. I am really going to have my work cut out for me. Ooh, I know! I'll talk Fred and George into playing a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Locking you two in closet together should do the trick.”

“Sounds more like Seven Minutes in Hell to me,” said Hermione grumpily.

“Maybe if you had a quickie in the closet, you wouldn't be so bitchy.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” whined Hermione.

“Because I'm in love, and that's what people in love do.”

“They torture people?” asked Hermione miserably.

“No, silly. They knock sense into people who are being too stubborn to find love themselves. Love is love whether it comes in ferret form or not. I want you to be happy and find true love just like Harry and I did.”

“Did Harry actually say he was in love with you?”

“Well, no, but he did drink,” said Ginny defensively.

“But so did I,” said Hermione, smiling evilly. “Perhaps, we're the ones having a secret affair. Did you ever think of that? Huh?”

“Don't be such a bitch, Hermione. Now, I am definitely setting you up with the ferret whether you like it or not,” huffed Ginny, walking away and leaving her stranded on the floor. Damn dress.

Just then, there was a fastidious knock at the door, and Percy Weasley poked his head in.

“Does anyone know anything about a pair of red satin knickers that are in my bedroom?”

Ginny looked over at Hermione and burst out laughing, but Fred was the one who spoke up. “What you do in your personal life is your own business and trust me when I tell you that we don't want to hear about it.”

Percy glared at Fred and was about to give him a very long winded piece of his mind when Fred took out his wand and slammed the door in his face. After casting a Silencing Charm, Fred turned to Hermione and said, “You didn't want those back, did you?”

“No,” replied Hermione through gritted teeth, her face heating up.

“You shagged Percy, too!” exclaimed Ron in disgust.

“Fuck off, Ron,” retorted Hermione angrily.

“Now, now, you two,” said George in amusement. “Save it for our next game.”

“What game?” asked Hermione fearfully. She sincerely hoped they hadn't taken Ginny's suggestion of Seven Minutes in Heaven. She did not want to be trapped alone with Malfoy. Or Fred for that matter. The firewhisky was starting to kick in, and they were both looking rather delicious at the moment. Come to think of it, George would make a rather tasty treat as well.

“I don't know what game it is,” said Fred bitterly. “The game master over here won't tell. Not even his own twin. It must be good though. He keeps cackling evilly.”

“Why don't you come over here and find out, Hermione,” said George, patting the spot between him and Fred. “Unless you're chicken of course.”

“I am not chicken,” growled Hermione. “I'm stuck. Go on without me. I'll watch from over here.”

Fred and George both hopped up and pushed her back to the circle. Hermione had to hold onto her dress so it didn't ride up too much. “You wouldn't want to miss this game, Hermione,” said George sinisterly. “I promise it will be fun.”

“I doubt that,” replied Hermione.

“So,” began George now that he had everyone's attention, “we all learned a lot of terrible truths about each other tonight.”

Everyone grumbled in agreement.

“I'm sure I don't have to rehash it, but I will of course. Just for fun. So, to sum it all up: our little sister committed the dreadful act of snogging a Slytherin, our little brother bagged a wacko teacher, Harry kissed his best friend behind Ginny's back more than once, Krum has been in both Malfoy and Crabbe's pants, yet he hasn't shagged his own 'girlfriend', Hermione... well she's done loads of things. Can't really list them all.”

“Are you going somewhere with this?” interrupted Hermione angrily.

“What I mean to say,” continued George, completely ignoring Hermione, “is that we all heard a lot of truths we didn't like.” 

Everyone looked around the circle and nodded, glaring at one another.

“Some of the truths made us really angry.”

“Damn straight,” said Ron, alternating his glare between Hermione and 'Krum'.

“And now, it's time to get even.”

“How?” asked Ron and Ginny a little too eagerly.

“It's time to play Dastardly Dares,” announced George dramatically.

“Dastardly Dares? I've never heard of it,” said Ginny skeptically. 

“It sounds made up,” added Ron suspiciously.

“That's because I just made it up,” replied George, smiling proudly.

“It sounds stupid,” grumbled Hermione.

“I have a game we could play instead,” said Ginny, giving Hermione a significant look.

“Never mind,” said Hermione, quickly changing her tune. “I'm sure George thought of something brilliant.” Whatever it was, it had to be better than Seven Minutes in Heaven. Having to do some stupid dare couldn't be as bad as that. Besides, she wouldn't mind getting a little revenge herself against a certain red-haired bitch. She just needed to decide which one deserved it the most.

“Excellent,” said George, rubbing his hands together. “Since Truth or Dare turned out to be pretty much just a game of truth, I thought we could play a game with just dares.”

Everyone groaned in reply.

“Now that everyone has a little firewhisky in them, I'm sure we're all feeling a lot braver. Well, us Gryffindors anyway,” said George, sending a snide look to Malfoy.

Malfoy scowled back.

“So, everyone needs to come up with a dare. I'm sure someone pissed you off during our little game of truth, so with them in mind, come up with the most dastardly dare you can. Your dare should start with 'I dare' and then add the name of the person you want revenge on. Whoever is mentioned in the dare must complete the dare or suffer the consequences. And as an incentive to be creative and make this game really interesting, whoever comes up with the most dastardly dare doesn't have to do one.”

“How do we decide whose dare is the most dastardly?” asked Ron.

“We'll vote and if need be, we'll use Veritaserum. I suspect it will be rather obvious though. Most of you are just amateurs,” replied George, smirking. 

George passed around some quills and parchment and everyone got to work. Hermione looked around the group. It was hard to pick just one person to get even with. They had pretty much all pissed her off at one point or another. She looked over to see Ginny scribbling furiously on her parchment, crossing out what she had written and then quickly writing something else. After a moment, it seemed inspiration had finally struck, and Ginny wrote down her dare with relish. When she was finished, she looked up and smiled evilly at Hermione. Shit. It looked as though Ginny was targeting her. 

Hermione looked down at her own blank parchment. She needed to come up with something good and fast. She did not want to do Ginny's dare. It was either something evil that involved Malfoy or something evil that involved Fred. Either way she was doomed. Fucked really. Then it occurred to her that the best way to get even with Ginny was to give her a taste of her own medicine. As an added bonus, her dare would get revenge on more than just Ginny. The twins probably wouldn't be affected, but she could always get her revenge on them later. With a smirk that could rival Malfoy's, she wrote down her dare. 

“Time's up,” declared George a little too enthusiastically. “I forgot to mention that you can't use any names in the dare itself. So, please remove all names except for the person that the dare is actually for.”

Horror began to settle on all of their faces, including Fred's. This game was not going to be a simple game of revenge after all. George had more up his sleeve than he was letting on.

“Fuck, George. You're a right bastard. This game isn't going to help me at all,” complained Fred.

“I'm sure you will think of something, Fred. By the way, this is the assigned seating for the game. No changes,” said George, giving his brother a wink.

“Why do we have to take out the names?” asked Ginny.

“You'll see,” was all George would say.

Hermione looked down at her dare and sighed. It wasn't going to be any good at all without his name in it. It would probably end up being the lamest dare there was and with her luck there would be some kind of booby prize for that. Perhaps she could salvage it somehow. George only said there couldn't be any names. Yes, she would just have to rework it a bit. Sometimes she was so clever, it was scary. George didn't have anything on her.

“Alright,” said George. “Consequences for not doing dares remain the same. Everyone must complete one dare except for the person who wins immunity. He, and I do mean he, can sit back and laugh his ass off while the rest of you suckers do your dares.”

“How do you know it's going to be a he?” asked a perturbed Hermione.

“Because,” replied George matter of factly, “I am a he.”

“You are a chauvinistic bastard,” said Hermione, “and not nearly as clever as you think.”

“Well,” replied George, smirking. “Let's see just how clever I really am. I'll go first.”

“Fine,” snapped Hermione.

“I dare everyone here to cross out the name in their dare and substitute it with the word 'myself'. There. How's that for clever? I challenge anyone to show me a more dastardly dare than that. What? No takers? Shocking. Well, I guess I will just sit back and enjoy the show then.” 

“You fucker,” said Fred with a hint of admiration intertwined with his outrage. “You brilliant mother fucker.”

“Bloody hell,” gasped Ron, clearly upset. “I'm not doing my dare. I'll be killed.”

“You can always take your chances with the Veritaserum and Percy,” replied George unsympathetically. 

“Not bloody likely,” grumbled Ron. 

“Alright, Ron. You go first,” said George, taking charge. “Just because I'm curious. Then we'll go counter clockwise from there. We'll save Hermione's dare for the grand finale.”

Hermione sat there in shock. Suddenly her dare didn't seem quite so lame. In fact, it seemed like the worst fucking idea she had ever come up with. 

“That okay with you, princess?” goaded George.

Despite the fact that she would have sincerely liked to punch George's lights out, Hermione didn't say one word in response. After all, she only had five dares to plan her escape. So much for her Gryffindor courage. Of course, it was the courage from the firewhisky that she was really worried about. Fucking drunken shagging gene.

“I'll take that as a yes. Suck it up, Ron. Let's hear your deadly dare.”

Ron glared at George before he shakily held up his parchment and read from it. “I dare myself to go snag the bride's something blue.”

“That's easy,” scoffed George. “She's probably not even wearing her knickers by now.”

“Are you kidding?” asked Ron in disbelief. “It's a bloody suicide mission. If Bill doesn't kill me, Fleur will. Or worse, she'll castrate me!” While Ron was still more than a little enamored by Fleur, he also found her to be scary as hell.

“And who did you wish that cruel fate on?” asked Fred, smirking.

Ron inadvertently looked over at 'Viktor' before he snapped, ”None of your fucking business, Fred.

“Well, get to it then,” said Fred. “We don't have all bloody night.”

Looking like a scared little boy, Ron grudgingly left in quest of his something blue. Everyone else sat in silence and waited.

After a while, George asked impatiently, “What's taking him so bloody long? All he had to do was grab a pair of knickers.” 

“Maybe Fleur was still wearing them,” offered Hermione.

“It's not that hard to get a girl out of her knickers. I do it all of the time,” bragged George.

“Yes,” agreed Malfoy, looking over at Hermione with his trademark smirk. “Vith some girls it is quite easy.”

Hermione could see his hand in his pocket. He was probably fondling her knickers right now. Knicker stealing bastard. Hermione turned to Malfoy and said scathingly, “Well, some men actually work for it. Of course, you wouldn't know anything about that, would you? Perhaps, you could ask Goyle. He knows a thing or two. Or three.”

Malfoy scowled. “Maybe, I vill ask Percy Veasel-ly. It seems he has a pair of your knickers as vell.”

“Why don't you? You can ask Percy all about it when you are trapped naked in a room with him after you wuss out from doing your dare!”

“Believe me,” said Malfoy, smirking even more. “I vill not be vussing out of my dare.”

“Maybe we should go rescue Ron,” interjected Harry, who seemed to be the only one concerned about Ron's fate. “It is taking an awfully long time.” 

“Vhat, vould you know about it, Potter? Filch beat you to the only pair of knickers you could haff ever snagged.”

“Hey, said Fred indignantly. “I snagged them first. Oh, wait maybe I don't want to take claim to snagging my sister's knickers. That's a little twisted. Forget I said anything.”

Harry gave Fred a weird look, but then continued on, “If Fleur is still wearing her knickers, then Ron could be in serious trouble.”

“Maybe,” said Ginny, trying not to laugh, “it's Bill who's wearing Fleur's knickers.”

“That would be classic.” George laughed.

“It's not funny,” insisted Harry. 

“Yes, it is,” Fred laughed. “Don't worry, Harry. I'm sure Ron's alright. He probably just stayed to watch. He's a bit pervy, really.”

“You should talk,” said Hermione snidely.

“Why just talk about it?” asked Fred, suddenly grabbing her and rolling on top of her. He started nipping at her neck causing her to squeal and kick her feet. Fred had hit a particularly ticklish spot, and Hermione could not stop giggling girlishly. 

Finally, she gasped, “Stop!”

Fred rolled off of her laughing and then with a pretend pout said, “We didn't even get to the pervy part yet. I was going to...”

“Stop!” yelled Hermione again before Fred could say anything else. She did not want to know what he was going to do. What she didn't know couldn't hurt her, or in other words, send the wrath of Ginny down on her in the form of a very embarrassing list. She hadn't minded having Fred on top of her. Not at all. And the last thing she needed was Fred talking dirty to her. She would lose that damn bet for sure and probably her hair as well. Hermione calmly straightened her dress and then noticing Malfoy's and Ginny's expressions she quickly added, “Stop joking around, Fred.” And then for effect, added primly, “We should be worrying about Ron now.” 

Just then the door banged open and a disheveled Ron ran in, frantically locking the door behind him. His clothes were torn, and he could hardly catch his breath as he fell to the floor in a heap. There was a long scratch across his cheek.

“Well, did you get them?” demanded George, unmoved by Ron's wretched state.

Ron responded by throwing a pair of of tattered blue knickers in his face.

“Oh my God, Ron. What happened?” asked Hermione, genuine concern for her friend finally kicking in.

“It seems Bill has more wolf tendencies than we originally thought,” said Ron rather cryptically, not looking anyone in the eye.

“Bill turned into a werewolf!” gasped Hermione and immediately felt rather stupid, as it wasn't even a full moon.

“No,” said Ron, still staring at the floor. “Not exactly.”

“Did Bill do that to your face?” asked Hermione worriedly.

“Um, no, that was Fleur.”

“What about your clothes? Did Bill do that?”

“No, that was Fleur too.”

“It sounds like Fleur is the one with animalistic tendencies,” said Hermione pointedly. “What exactly did Bill do?”

“Well,” hedged Ron. “He did some things... You know animal like things.”

“What kind of things?” asked Hermione exasperatedly. Then noticing Ron's reddening face and remembering the fact that Bill and Fleur were on their “honeymoon”, it wasn't exactly difficult for the brightest witch of the age to figure it out. Embarrassed, she simply said, “Oh.”

Fred started laughing. “You stayed and watched, didn't you?”

Ron nodded dumbly.

“I told you, Hermione,” Fred laughed. “He's a pervy one. Want to go back to my room and have some wild animal sex of our own?”

“No.”

“Shot down. Again! Moving on,” said George. “Let's find out, what dastardly (cough, cough, weak ass) dare Harry has in store for us.”

Harry blushed but at least he wasn't shaking like Ron did when he read his dare. He said clearly, if a bit embarrassed, “I dare myself to go find that red pair of knickers in so and so's room, strip and wear only those knickers for the rest of the night.”

George started laughing. “I didn't know you had it in you, Harry. That is pretty dastardly for the hero of the Wizarding World. Who pray tell were you going to make do that?”

“Fred,” said Harry a bit sheepishly. “To get back at him for the whole kissing Neville thing.”

“I would have looked damn good in them, too,” boasted Fred.

“Off to it then, mate,” said George, clapping Harry on the back.

Harry bravely went off to rescue Hermione's knickers from Percy's room.

“Shit,” grumbled Fred the moment he left. “Now, even Harry is getting into Hermione's knickers before we are.”

“Literally,” joked George.

Hermione responded by pinching them both hard in the arm.

“Ouch!”

“Harry, should be wearing my knickers not hers,” pouted Ginny. 

“Like he's really going to want your knickers, Gin,” said George. “Filch probably wanked in them by now.”

“Shut up, George. You are so disgusting,” said Ginny, glaring at him.

“I'm not the brother going through your knicker drawer,” said George, nodding his head toward Fred.

Fred gave him a significant look and said, “You want to try again there, mate?”

George grinned mischievously and said, “I'm not the brother who went through your knicker drawer tonight.”

“I don't even want to know, you fucking pervert,” exclaimed Ginny angrily.

“Neville might be wanking in a pair as well,” said George, unable to keep a straight face.

“Stay out of my stuff!”

Ginny was about to kill her brother when Harry suddenly walked in wearing only a pair of skimpy red knickers. Hermione couldn't help gaping at him. Seeing her knickers on her best friend was completely disturbing and yet kind of hot in a really perverted way. This was a whole new image for the boy wonder and by the looks of it, he had earned that nickname. It was a wonder he was even able to get into Hermione's knickers at all. He was...

“Fucking huge!” exclaimed George. “Now, we'll have to start calling you the Boy Who Has a Big Dick or something like that.”

“How about the Boy Who is a Big Dick,” mumbled Malfoy under his breath.

“Shut up,” said Harry embarrassed, trying to find a way to sit that wasn't too vulgar. Ginny noticed Hermione staring and sent her a glare before carefully arranging her big ass dress to help cover up Harry.

“So what did Percy do?” asked Fred curiously.

“No comment,” said Harry, blushing even more.

“Alright, little sis,” said George. “Your turn. Let's see what dastardly dare you came up with. Knowing you, I bet it's a good one.”

Ginny's lips pursed together, but she took out her crumbled piece of parchment, smoothed it out and read out loud, “I dare myself to wrestle Weasley style with the best Seeker in the room that doesn't have a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.”

Fred and George burst out laughing. Hermione couldn't decide what she thought about this particular dare. At least they wouldn't be snogging this time around. However, there would probably be an awful lot of groping. On the bright side, they might end up killing each other.

“Vhat the fuck is Veasel-ly style?” asked Malfoy warily.

“Anything goes,” said Fred. “And the one who can be the first to pin down the other's shoulders to the count of ten is the winner and gets bragging rights.”

“You're toast, mate,” said George, laughing. “Ginny is going to kick your ass.”

“Ve vill see about that,” said Malfoy, getting to his feet with a look of determination on his face.

Everyone quickly scooted out of the way to make way for the wrestlers. Fred and George dragged Hermione a safe distance away. With Harry's help Ginny got up and headed over to Malfoy. She held out her hand to shake and as soon as Malfoy grasped it, she kneed him right in the groin. Malfoy let out a groan and doubled over in pain. Going behind him, Ginny literally kicked him in the ass knocking him to the floor. Before Malfoy could get up or breathe, Ginny flipped him over and sat on top of him holding his shoulders down.

“She's gotten me with that move too,” said George proudly. “Bloody brilliant.”

Everyone started counting, “One, two, three, four, five...”

No one could see what happened because of Ginny's big ass dress, but she suddenly screeched and jumped off of Malfoy. “That hurt, you fucking pervert!”

“It vas supposed to, you fucking cunt.”

Ginny reached out and pinched his nipple through his clothing and twisted it hard. 

“Fuck!” yelled Malfoy, reaching out with his hand to return the favor.

“You wouldn't dare!” exclaimed Ginny, crossing her arms over her chest and backing away out of his reach.

“Vouldn't I?” asked Malfoy, smirking as he closed in on her.

Ginny slapped him hard across the face.

“You really shouldn't haff done that,” said Malfoy, scowling and rubbing his cheek.

“Why? You like it when Hermione does it, don't you?” asked Ginny evilly, slapping him again.

“Shut your mouth. And stop slapping me!”

“When Hermione does it, it gets you off, doesn't it? You like it rough,” goaded Ginny, raising her hand again.

Malfoy blocked her hand and lunged for her, but Ginny was too quick and dodged him. “You want to know how Hermione likes it?”

Distracted by her question, Malfoy didn't notice the fist coming at his stomach until it was too late. Again, he doubled over in pain, and Ginny jumped on his back. Cutting off his air supply as she clung to his neck, she whispered maliciously in Malfoy's ear. 

“She likes Fred in the front door and George in the back door, but where does that leave room for you? Oh right, I guess you could just cum in her mouth again.” Then Ginny bit down on his earlobe hard enough to draw blood.

Malfoy yelled out in pain and anger and flipped Ginny over his head, causing her to land hard on her ass on the floor in front of him. Before she could move, he was lying on top of her. She rolled over onto her stomach before he could successfully pin her down. This time, Malfoy whispered into her ear. 

“You haff been a naughty girl, Ginny Veasel-ly. If I had a bar of soap, I vould shove it in your fucking face. As it is, I vill haff to settle for this,” said Malfoy as he lifted up her skirt over her head and started spanking her.

“This is the most erotic wrestling match I have ever witnessed,” said George, conjuring a bowl of popcorn. “Too bad it's with that prat and my sister.”

Pinching, slapping and spanking, oh my! Hermione was really glad Ginny's plan had fell through and that she hadn't been dared to wrestle Malfoy. If it were her and Malfoy going at it like this, things would only be going downhill from here. And Ginny bloody well knew it! Unconsciously, Hermione reached for some of George's popcorn.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Malfoy froze mid spank, and Ginny carelessly threw him off of her.

“That's not fair,” cried Hermione. Well, it wasn't.

Ginny shrugged. “Weasley rules.” Then rolling him on his back, Ginny tried to pin Malfoy's shoulders down but try as she might, she couldn't get them to both touch the floor at the same time.

“Just dislocate one of his shoulders,” suggested Ron.

“You can't do that!” exclaimed Hermione horrified.

All of the Weasleys shrugged. “Weasley rules.”

Hermione glared at them and pulled out her wand. “Finite.”

“What the fuck!” yelled Ginny as she found herself suddenly flipped over and pinned to the floor.

Hermione shrugged and then spat, “Weasley rules.”

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, nine and a half, nine and three quarters...”

Hermione glared at George.

“Oh, alright,” grumbled George. “Ten. The fucking prick wins but only because his girlfriend helped him.”

“Yeah,” said Ron. “If Hermione hadn't helped you, you would have gotten your ass kicked by a girl.”

“Shut up, Ron,” said Ginny, picking herself off the floor. “I kick your ass all of the time.”

She turned to Malfoy and held out her hand. “Good match.” Malfoy shook her hand and received yet another knee to the groin.

“I've fallen for that one too,” said George, shoving more popcorn in his face.

“Sorry if I hurt you, 'Viktor',” said Ginny, sounding not at all sorry about it. “I'm sure Hermione will kiss it and make it better though.”

Scowling, Malfoy hobbled back to the circle and everyone resumed their assigned places. Hermione leaned across Fred and pointed her wand at Malfoy's ear and then after only a slight hesitation at his crotch. Oddly enough, she knew a healing spell for that particular problem.

“Vhat? No kiss?” asked Malfoy sarcastically.

“Not if you were the last prick on earth.”

“Ve vill see about that,” said Malfoy as though he knew something she didn't.

“Alright 'Viktor' my boy,” said George. “Let's see just how dastardly you really are.”

Malfoy sent a smirk over to Hermione and then slowly pulled the parchment out of his pocket. Still smirking at Hermione, he made quite a show of unfolding it and smoothing it out.

“Just fucking read it already,” snapped Hermione. The suspense and feeling of impending doom was killing her.

Smirking even more, if that was possible, Malfoy finally read his dare. “I dare myself to vatch vhile a non-red haired male who doesn't vear glasses vigorously snogs a non-red haired female for five minutes vhile everyone else vaits in the hallvay.”

“Wait a minute,” said Ron angrily after exhausting his deductive skills and making the proper calculations. “You mean after all the shit we had to do, this git gets to watch himself snog his own girlfriend? That's bloody bullshit!”

“I don't know vhat you are complaining about, Veasel-ly. You got to do plenty of vatching on your dare.”

Ron turned crimson and unconsciously touched the scratch on his cheek.

“I for one, agree with Ron,” said Fred for once showing some solidarity with his younger brother but only because it affected him as well. “He can't really watch himself snog Hermione. And if he can't complete the dare, I say we send him to Percy's room.”

“Yeah, what Fred said,” agreed Ron, nodding his head vehemently.

“Well,” said George thoughtfully, “I suppose he could keep his eyes open while they are snogging. That might be a bit creepy though. Oh, I know! Peeping Parchment!”

Fred reached behind Hermione and hit George in the back of the head. “For someone so brilliant, you are a fucking idiot. What happened to no more sabotaging?”

“Oops?”

“You got that fucking right,” said Fred, lowering his voice so Malfoy couldn't hear. “Thanks to you, not only does he get to snog the shit out of Hermione, he also gets a fucking souvenir to remember it by. And if that's not enough, I still have to do my dastardly dare, which because of you really is dastardly. It should have just been a nice little dare that I could have had a little fun wacking off to, but no, you had to be clever and make it the most dastardly dare I ever could have thought of.”

“Stop being such a whiner, Fred. It's only a bit of snogging. He's probably a shit kisser anyway. It's not like he has our signature move.”

“It's my signature move.”

“Whatever. And since when are you scared of a little dare? Are you turning all Slytherin on me?”

“No,” grumbled Fred. “Did I mention this dare is particularly dastardly though?”

“If it makes you feel better, I'll do your dare with you, you big fucking baby.”

Fred started laughing. “You'll do my dare with me?”

“Yes, you fucking wuss. I'm not scared of a little dare.”

“You have yourself a deal,” said Fred, grinning evilly as he shook his brother's hand.

“So, vhere is this fucking Peeping Parchment anyvay?” asked Malfoy, ready to get on with his dare.

“Keep your pants on,” said George, getting up to go get some. When he returned he said, “Someone else is going to have to stay in the room though. You can't very well snog and hold the Peeping Parchment at the same time. We don't want to miss anything good.”

“He can do it,” said Malfoy, pointing a finger at Ron with an evil smile on his face.

“This dare was meant for me, wasn't it,” said Ron, getting angry.

“And people say you are an idiot,” said Malfoy, smirking.

“You know, you are an even bigger asshole than I remember you being,” said Ron, starting to get up.

George reached out and held him back. “Let's just get this over with. We still have Hermione's dare to get to. And I have a feeling that one is going to be good. Here's the parchment, Ron. Make sure you get some good angles.”

After everyone had cleared out into the hallway to give them some privacy, well, all except poor Ron anyway, Malfoy crawled over closer to her like a tiger stalking its prey.

Her eyes widened slightly, but she held her ground. “You're looking rather cocky.”

“I just kicked a girl's ass, how else vould I be feeling?”

“Don't delude yourself. Ginny kicked your ass, as well as various other parts of your body. You only won because I took pity on you.”

“Doesn't matter, I still von, and I got bragging rights. Veasel rules,” said Malfoy, leaning in toward her.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked, starting to panic.

“Vhat the fuck do you think I'm doing? I am going to kiss you.”

“Why?”

“Pay attention, Granger. It's my bloody dare.”

“Don't call me that!” she hissed. “Ron might hear you.” Fortunately, Ron didn't hear as he was off in a corner sulking.

“Vhat should I call you then? Sweetheart, darling, dear? Take your pick.”

“I can't believe I have to kiss you,” said Hermione, crossing her arms across her chest and accidentally accentuating her cleavage. “Why would you even make a dare like that?”

Malfoy shrugged. “I thought it would piss Veasel-ly off. I didn't know he liked to vatch.” Malfoy's eyes slipped down to Hermione's cleavage and lingered there.

Hermione put one finger under his chin and lifted up his face so they were looking into each other's eyes. “Are you checking me out?” she asked incredulously.

“Maybe,” said Malfoy, running his fingers up and down her bare arm causing her to shiver.

Alarm bells started going off in her head. “Are you drunk?”

“Maybe,” he said, scooting closer.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Just get on with the snogging already,” said Ron, getting bored.

“Haven't you ever heard of foreplay?” asked Malfoy, not happy about the interruption.

“I thought you used your fingers for that,” said Ron.

“Ron! You are disgusting,” Hermione said, well, disgustedly.

“That's later, moron. Just shut up and hold the bloody parchment. And be sure to get my good side.” 

And before Ron could say anything stupid or Hermione could say anything at all, his lips were upon hers, and he was giving her a long, slow, lingering kiss that left her whole body humming. One thing was for sure, Malfoy did not get performance anxiety. With his body pressed against hers in a tight embrace, his hands traveled up her back sending shivers down her spine. His fingers methodically worked their way up into her hair, and she felt her hair gently fall to her shoulders. Intertwining his fingers into her hair, he grasped it and pulled her head back giving him access to her neck. Merlin, she loved it when he kissed her neck. He knew just the right spot. Oh, yes. 

And as his warm lips moved from her neck to her shoulders and then to her collar bone, she could barely keep herself from moaning out loud. Each kiss was a sensual experience in itself and when he finally reached her breasts she couldn't help arching her back slightly and succumbing to the sensations she was feeling. And then his lips made their way back to her mouth, and she found herself kissing him back greedily. Without breaking the kiss, he laid her back on the floor and positioned himself on top of her. His hand snaked its way up her leg bringing her dress up along with it. His body pressed into hers in the most delicious way and then she felt him stiffen against her.

“Fred!”

“Does your 'boyfriend' there know you like to call out my name when you two are doing naughty things together?”

Hermione glared at Fred and then pushed the completely stiff Malfoy off of her. Pulling out her wand, she said ,“Finite.” She should probably thank Fred for this later.

Malfoy sat up scowling.

“Sorry.” Fred laughed, twirling his wand in his hand. “But your time was up. It's my turn now.”

“And vill your dare be as fun as mine?” asked Malfoy with a smirk.

“The question isn't whether or not I will have fun. The question is... will you?”

Malfoy's smirk turned into a scowl. He didn't like that question.

“And you're in luck because George here has volunteered to do this dare with me, so it should be double the fun.”

“Alright, Fred. Spit it out. What dastardly deed are we doing this time?” asked George in a bored voice.

“I dare myself (and now George) to do an erotic dance for the person on the left.”

George started laughing. “Too bad for you, mate. Hermione's on my left.”

“Yes,” said Fred, “but you agreed to do my dare and this git is on my left.”

“So, we have to do an erotic dance for him?” asked George, pointing his finger at Malfoy with a disgusted look on his face. “Together?”

“Yep.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Alright,” said Fred. “Talk amongst yourselves while George and I go out into the hallway to make up some slutty dance routine to perform for shithead over here. If we're going to do this, we may as well do it right. It is such a burden always having to be the consummate showmen.”

“And for Merlin's sake, Ron. Give 'Krum' those fucking pictures so he can get his dare over with. Wasn't the live show enough for you?” asked George before following his twin out into the hall.

Ron, turning red, angrily threw the pictures at Malfoy. One landed in front of Hermione, and she turned red as well. As she reached out to get a better look, Malfoy quickly snatched it away. “Mine.”

Hermione glared at him. “I can look if I want to. I'm in these pictures too, 'Viktor'.

“It vas my dare,” said Malfoy, still not willing to share.

“But I participated!” insisted Hermione.

“You sure as hell did,” grumbled Ron.

“What's that supposed to mean?” asked Hermione angrily.

“The dare was for him to snog you. You didn't have to snog him back. Or enjoy it quite so much,” exclaimed Ron bitterly.

Hermione was about to deny enjoying it, but she had caught a glimpse of that picture, and Ron really wasn't that stupid. “Well, he is my boyfriend, isn't he?”

Ginny snorted and Malfoy smirked but before either could comment, Fred and George walked back in.

“Well, I guess we're ready,” said Fred. “Fleur's parents seemed to enjoy the choreography at least.”

“We reworked an old routine we made up when we were ten and were convinced we were going to be the next big Wizard boy band,” said George. “Had a lot of good moves in it, we just had to dirty it up a bit. Scoot back, everyone. We're going to need some room to work it.” 

“And put away those pictures 'Krum'. We don't need you all hot and bothered while we're bumping and grinding in your face,” said Fred.

“And just so you know,” added George. “Despite what you may have heard, we're not that easy. If you want to get in our pants, you're going to have to fork out a few galleons. Hit it, Fred.”

Fred and George turned their backs to Malfoy and with a swish of Fred's wand, the music started and so did the show. A generic kind of beat started, and Fred and George shook their asses in time to the music. When the singing started, the twins turned around to face Malfoy, and with a quick pelvic thrust to his face, held up their wands as microphones and sang along to the cheesy music.

Hit it!

You grabbed my wand  
When we were down by the pond  
You stole my heart  
Right from the start

Fred and George got really into the music and their choreography. It seemed they had a dance step to go with each line of the song. As they started singing, they ran their hands sexily down their body, grabbed their crotch and then did some kind of lasso movement turning around in a circle. When they got to the refrain, they did some intricate foot work accentuated by a series of pelvic thrusts. Malfoy leaned as far back as he possibly could with a look of horror on his face, and Hermione commandeered George's bowl of popcorn.

Ooh ooh ooh oh oh   
Ooh ooh oh oh... Aah  
Ooh ooh ooh oh oh   
Ooh ooh oh oh... Aah

Kick it!

Fred and George both literally kicked it and then stood back to back with their arms crossed over their chests. In a deep voice, they started to rap.

You flicked it  
You swished it  
And then you had to knick it

The twins pointed around the room and did some more fancy foot work and pelvic thrusts.

Ooh ooh ooh oh oh   
Ooh ooh oh oh... Aah  
Ooh ooh ooh oh oh   
Ooh ooh oh oh... Aah

The twins smirked at Malfoy when they sang the next line and Fred and George bent over in front of Malfoy and started coming up slowly running their hands up their bodies. Malfoy looked like he was going to puke. Hermione almost choked on her popcorn. 

You were no dumb blond  
I should have known I was conned  
It should have been my magic  
That's why this story's so tragic

Bumping hips, Fred and George both went down backwards to the floor with one hand and did pelvic thrusts up to the ceiling.

Ooh ooh ooh oh oh   
Ooh ooh oh oh... Aah  
Ooh ooh ooh oh oh   
Ooh ooh oh oh... Aah

George then slapped Fred in the ass, and they started dancing around the circle making various lewd movements.

My wand was long  
And now its long gone  
I was just your pawn  
That's the end of this song

Fred slapped George on the ass and then they turned around to shake their asses in Malfoy's face.

Ooh ooh ooh oh oh   
Ooh ooh oh oh... Aah  
Ooh ooh ooh oh oh   
Ooh ooh oh oh... Aah

Shut it!

They ended their dance by bending over, pulling down their pants and mooning Malfoy. Everyone but Malfoy laughed and applauded. Fred and George pulled up their pants and took their bows.

“How did you like the show, Hermione?” asked Fred suggestively. “If you had your knickers on, would you have wet them?” 

“Well, I was laughing so hard I might have peed a little,” said Hermione, jokingly before she burst into fit of giggles.

“Oh, come on, Hermione,” said Fred, doing some pelvic thrusts just for her benefit. “You know you want a piece of this.”

“I think we've all had plenty of that,” said Hermione, pulling him down to sit by her.

“Hermione's just excited to get on with her dare. Isn't that right, Hermione?” asked George, grinning at her.

“On second thought,” said Hermione. “Maybe you two should do an encore.”

“Later,” said Fred. “Just for you. Let's hear your dare. I have my fingers crossed it's something good. And by good, I mean good enough to get me laid.”

“Or me,” said George.

“No one is getting laid,” said Hermione, glaring at the twins. Hopefully, anyway. “I dare myself to play Spin the Bottle until it lands on a person who is not related, does not have green eyes and is not the same gender and then spend Seven Minutes in Heaven with that person, whoever it may be.” 

Now, that was funny when the dare was for Ginny, as there was only one person it could possibly be. Ginny would have had to keep spinning the bottle over and over until it landed on Malfoy. This would have made them both extremely annoyed and irritable and then they would have had to spend seven whole minutes locked in a closet together. It was genius. Ginny would get a taste of her own medicine and Malfoy would be miserable. They would have been in hell and Hermione would have been in heaven. 

Plus, Ron would have been all upset that his little sister was possibly learning a few things from a much older, more experienced Wizard whom he despised, and Harry wouldn't have been too happy about it either. It was the perfect revenge and quite dastardly if she did say so herself. Now, that she had to do the dare, it didn't seem quite so funny or genius. It was, however, more dastardly than ever. That's what she got for trying to be funny.

“Now, we're talking,” said Fred, sitting up just a little bit straighter. “This dare has possibilities. And by possibilities, I mean the possibility to get me laid.”

“And you doubted me,” said George as though he were completely responsible for it, which he kind of was. “It will probably be me who gets laid though. Unless Hermione's into the whole twin thing.”

Hermione glared but took a deep breath and grabbed a firewhisky bottle from the center of the circle. There was a little firewhisky left in it. She should have dumped it on Fred's head or threw it in George's face or perhaps poured it in Malfoy's lap, but she didn't. Against her better judgment, she drained it in one gulp. It had been a really long, eventful day to say the least, and she needed a drink. Besides, even though she had consumed a lot of alcohol already, she wasn't really feeling all that drunk. Maybe a little tipsy. Maybe a little horny. Nothing she couldn't handle though. Perhaps she had gotten rid of her little problem. Well, she could dream, couldn't she? Setting the bottle on its side, she spun it and hoped for the best, whatever that might be. 

Watching the bottle spin, she tried to decide where she wanted it to land. Harry probably would have been her best case scenario. They could have spent their seven minutes productively talking about Horcruxes and plotting the downfall of Voldemort. Of course, she had knocked him out of the competition because Ginny would have enjoyed that too much and that would have defeated the whole purpose of the dare. And now that she thought about it, it was probably a good thing that Harry was excluded. Being confined in a small space with him wearing only her knickers, she may have had a strong desire to to get them back (they did belong to her after all) and then Ginny would have killed her.

Ron would probably be fairly safe, although it would probably be the longest, most awkward seven minutes of her life. Come to think of it, she did not want to be locked in a closet with Ron. Ugh. If she was going to root for someone, it was going to have to be George. At least with George, the time would go by fast. He was funny and charming, and there would be relatively few consequences with him. He was just out to have fun. There was no need to fear that it would lead anywhere serious, although she had no doubt he would shag her if she let him. Malfoy and Fred were out of the question for obvious reasons.

She anxiously watched the bottle spin round and round until her eyes became slightly bleary and unfocused. After what seemed like an eternity, the bottle finally came to a stop. Rubbing her eyes to make sure she was seeing it correctly, Hermione stared at the bottle in disbelief. Shit.


	42. Closet Confessions

“No,” said Hermione stubbornly, crossing her arms across her chest. “I refuse to do it.”

“You can't refuse to do it,” said Fred, grinning broadly. “You have to complete your dare. Or else,” he added, raising his eyebrows.

Hermione narrowed her eyes but then finally said, “I'll give you three and a half minutes. Take it or leave it.”

“No deal,” said Fred. “I can't get anything done in three and a half minutes. I have to have time to work my magic. I'm not a selfish lover like 'some people' you're probably used to,” said Fred, looking over at Malfoy, who scowled but didn't say anything.

“I don't see why you are making such a big deal out of this. It's not like we are going to be making love anyway,” pointed out Hermione.

Fred threw his hands up in the air dramatically. “Oh, sure. Rub that in my face. Just because I'm not in love yet, doesn't mean I don't have any feelings,” he huffed.

“That's not what I meant, Fred,” said Hermione, letting out a sigh. She felt kind of bad. It wasn't Fred's fault where the bottle landed. And under ordinary circumstances spending seven minutes in a closet with Fred wouldn't be so awful. However, the circumstances were anything but ordinary.

“Good,” said Fred, giving her a devilish smile. “Then give me seven minutes, and I will rock your world.”

And just like that, Hermione was over being sorry for Fred. “Forget it. If you are going to be difficult about it, I'll just re-spin,” Hermione said, reaching out to spin the bottle again. Anything was better than this. Anything.

“You can't re-spin,” declared Fred, taking her hand away from the bottle and holding on to it tight. “Your dare said you have to spend seven minutes in heaven with whoever the bottle lands on. There was nothing whatsoever in your dare about getting a do-over just because you don't happen to like where it landed.”

“But this is a special circumstance,” insisted Hermione, yanking her hand out of Fred's grasp. It was starting to get all tingly.

“Well, you should have thought of that when you were making the dare,” said Fred, smirking. “Too late now.”

“The dare was supposed to be for Ginny,” protested Hermione, “and this would not have happened if it were Ginny spinning.”

“Sucks to be you then,” replied Fred flippantly, not willing to budge.

Hermione glared at him but wasn't ready to give up just yet. She knew very well there were ways to get what you wanted. “George,” pleaded Hermione, turning doe-like eyes on Fred's twin in an attempt to get someone on her side. “You think I should re-spin, don't you?” Then leaning in close to George's ear, she whispered in her most seductive voice, “I was hoping it would land on you.”

“No fair using seduction,” said Fred, frowning at Hermione. 

“Weasley rules,” Hermione said with a smirk and then turned and gave George a flirtatious wink.

Fred glared. “Your blatant display of sexiness, while admittedly damn sexy, will get you nowhere. George is on my side. Right, George? George?”

“Well,” contemplated George, eyeing Hermione up and down, “she does make a valid point.”

“I always knew I liked you best,” said Hermione, giving George's leg an appreciative squeeze and sending Fred a superior look over her shoulder.

“You fucking traitor,” said Fred disgustedly to his twin.

“Every man for himself,” replied George, smirking. “Isn't that right, Ron?”

“Yeah,” muttered Ron, not looking at Fred. “I vote for a do-over.”

Fred glared at his brothers but wasn't ready to admit defeat yet. He was a Weasley after all. And he was resourceful. He wasn't afraid to go after what he wanted even if it meant having to get in bed with the enemy to do it. Well, not literally of course! 

“So, 'Viktor',” said Fred, clapping Malfoy hard on the back. “Not that you would willing help me or anything, but do you really want to risk another spin? There is no telling where it will land. And the odds are it won't land on you. The bottle could land on George or more than likely Ron. Can you imagine Ron and Hermione locked in a closet together for seven long minutes. Alone. What with their history and him being all hot and bothered from watching your snogging session with Hermione just a few moments ago. Who knows what would happen? Things could get serious. And me? I'm not all that serious. After all, it wasn't me who was drinking because I'm in love.”

George snorted. “Oh, what a load of shit,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Even if Ron were in love with Hermione, which I seriously doubt, we all know Fred could get a hell of a lot farther in seven minutes than Ron ever could. Ron would probably still be trying to figure out how to unhook her bra, and she's not even wearing one.”

“Hey!” said Ron indignantly. And then looking over at Hermione, “She's not wearing a bra?”

“Stop staring at my chest, Ron!”

“See,” said George, “Ron's completely inept. He can't do anything without pissing her off.”

“Well, you know what they say about love-hate relationships. In fact, 'Viktor',” said Fred rather mischievously, “I bet you know a lot about love-hate relationships. They can be very passionate and explosive, especially in close quarters. You never know what might happen. Do you really think it's a good idea for Hermione to re-spin that bottle?”

Malfoy looked torn, as though he weren't really comfortable with either choice. Not looking at Hermione, he finally responded gruffly, “No. The bottle should remain vhere it is.”

“Ha!” said Fred, happy to be back in the game. “How about you, Harry? What's your opinion?”

After receiving a significant look from Ginny, Harry said uncertainly, ”Um, whatever Ginny's is.”

“Thanks for the support, Harry,” said Hermione sarcastically.

“I guess that means Ginny gets to decide,” said Fred, smiling like a boy just about to go snog the shit out of the girl sitting next to him.

“Just my luck,” muttered Hermione bitterly.

“Yes, I suppose that does make it Ginny's decision,” agreed George rather reluctantly. “So, what does my favorite sister in the whole world have to say on the matter?”

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother. “I'd say it's a little late to start sucking up to me now, George. Especially if you're going to do it all half ass. Next time remember that galleons talk. Not that it really matters anyway,” said Ginny, sending a smirk over to Hermione. “I think it must be fate that the bottle landed in that particular spot. And who am I to tempt fate?”

“Yes!” cried Fred triumphantly, getting up to do a little victory dance in front of his brothers, using a few of his new dance moves to Ron's disgust.

Hermione put her head in her hands. This was terrible. This was horrible. This was the absolute worst thing that could possibly happen to her. If this really was fate, then fate had a really fucked up sense of humor. This was even worse than her worst case scenario for Merlin's sake. Why did the bottle have to land there of all places? It wasn't fair. She should have gotten to re-spin. It was all his fault that this was happening to her.

Hermione leaned over, not caring that he got a spectacular view down her dress and pulled him down by the collar until he was so close to her that only he could hear her. “This is all your fault,” she hissed in his ear.

“Bullshit. I didn't even vant to fucking come here,” Malfoy snarled back.

“Why didn't you just let me re-spin the fucking bottle?” Hermione whispered heatedly. 

“Vhy should I? I'm not the vone who likes to give out favors.”

“You have no idea what you've done! You are ruining my life!” cried Hermione angrily.

“And oddly enough, I don't really give a shit,” replied Malfoy coldly.

“Well, you should,” she hissed. “I've been drinking. A lot. Have you forgotten what happened the last time I drank? Well, I haven't. I remember every sordid detail. And if that weren't enough, I am wearing 'You Know Who' on my head! Who knows what crazy shit I might get up to in seven minutes. And it's probably not going to end up being just seven minutes, now is it? You would think you would want me to re-spin the bottle. It doesn't make any sense. Unless...”

“Unless vhat?”

“Are you in love with me?” Hermione accused, poking him hard in the chest. “Is that why you are doing this?”

“I am not doing anything,” insisted Malfoy. “And stop accusing me of being in love vith you. That Truth Potion vas probably faulty. It vas made by stupid Veasel-lys after all. Or, maybe I vas in love vith Panda.”

“Her name is Padma, you idiot.”

“Who the fuck cares? The point is, I am not in love vith you. I don't even like you.”

“Oh, yeah?” challenged Hermione. “What about that little snogging session we just had. You can't blame that on a potion. That was completely your idea.”

“It vas just a vay to get back at Veasel. It had nothing to do vith you. You vere a means to an end.”

“And I guess you didn't enjoy yourself at all either?”

“It vas... tolerable.”

“You are really starting to piss me off,” said Hermione, glaring at him. 

“I haff not done anything. Yet.”

“Well, neither have I, but thanks to you and all of the firewhisky I have consumed tonight, I will probably be doing plenty soon enough,” retorted Hermione angrily. “So, perhaps while I am in the closet fucking Fred's brains out, you will figure out why exactly it is that you didn't want me to re-spin that fucking bottle!” 

And with that, she slammed down what was left in her glass. She did it in anger and without really thinking, but really, what was one more drink going to hurt anyway? Things could not get any worse. Seven minutes in a closet with Fred. Heaven help her. And then... Oh, she just couldn't think about it. With what little resolve she could muster, she quickly stood up to get her stupid dare over with. However, as soon as she got up, she began to feel light headed and started to sway. It was like all of the alcohol went straight to her head. Unsteady on her feet, she started to fall when just before she hit the floor, she was suddenly caught by two very strong arms.

“Look. She's already head over heals for me,” joked Fred, “and I haven't even gotten to use my best moves yet.”

Unable to stop herself, Hermione started giggling. “You're funny,” she said, looking up at him and running her fingers through his hair. “And your hair is so soft. And red. I think red hair is really sexy. Pink hair is really stupid though. I hate fucking pink hair.”

“Are you drunk?” asked Fred, chuckling.

“Of course I am, silly,” she said, ruffling his hair until it stood straight up in the air.

“Excellent. I'll go first then,” said Fred, giving her a wink.

“Vhy should you get to go first?” asked Malfoy angrily. “In case you haff forgotten, the bottle landed on me as vell.”

“Unfortunately, I have not been able to forget that fact,” replied Fred bitterly. “I'm trying not to let it spoil things for me though. And the reason I get to go first is because I called it. You did not. Besides, I want to have my turn before she passes out. I have scruples about such things.”

“I am not going after a Veasel-ly,” said Malfoy firmly.

“Oh,” said Fred mockingly, “did you want to do the dare together then?”

“Hell yeah!” interjected Hermione, nodding her head exaggeratedly. “We should totally do that.” Why the fuck she said that, she had no idea. Because that was definitely a thought best left to the dark corners of her mind. On the other hand, if she was going to hell, she might as well do something to deserve to be there. 

“Hell no!” responded Malfoy disgustedly.

“Absolutely not,” agreed Fred, cringing. “I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm all for experimentation. I'm no prude or anything. But I hardly know this bastard and what I do know, I can't stand. I'm not getting naked with him. If you're really into a threesome, Hermione, I might do it with George. If I got drunk enough anyway.”

“I'm in,” said George quickly, standing up with a bottle of firewhisky in hand.

“No, no, no,” said Hermione in a sing song voice, waving her finger in George's face. “The bottle didn't land on you, now did it?”

“No, but you wanted it to,” said George, giving her a wink.

Hermione leaned in close to George and whispered very loudly as only a drunk person can do, “I only wanted it to land on you because I didn't think I would fuck you.”

George stared at her in disbelief. “Why wouldn't you want to fuck me?” he asked offended. And rightfully so.

“Because you're not your brother,” whispered Hermione even louder, putting her finger to her lips.

“There goes my ego,” grumbled George. “And for the record, I am very fuckable.” 

“Of course you are, but I would be much more likely to fuck Fred than you.”

“I thought you liked me best,” sulked George.

“I lied. If I was going to shag a Weasley, it would definitely be Fred. Or maybe Charlie,” said Hermione thoughtfully.

“Charlie!” exclaimed both Fred and George. 

“Why Charlie?” asked George.

“Because he's hot, and he works with dragons, which is also hot.” Hermione started giggling again. “Dragons. Hot. Get it?”

“No, I don't get it,” said George, clearly not amused. “I suppose you would fuck Bill before me, too.”

“No, he's married,” said Hermione, shaking her head firmly. That was a definite no no. Besides, wolf tendencies or not, there is no way the sex could be good enough to risk Fleur's wrath.

“What about Percy?” persisted George, not willing to let it go.

“I don't know. Maybe,” said Hermione, not quite sure of her answer.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” exclaimed George outraged. “Fucking Percy!”

“Well, he was a Prefect,” said Hermione in self-defense. “And Head Boy. I've always fantasized about fucking a Head Boy.”

“Typical. And what about Ron? Would you rather fuck him than me too?” asked George angrily.

Hermione thought about that for a minute. “No,” she finally said. “He's too good of a friend. I would probably do you before I would do Ron. There, does that make you feel better?”

“Strangely enough, it doesn't,” grumbled George. “I don't get it. Fred and I are twins. What does he have that I don't?”

“Well,” said Hermione, putting more thought into it than George probably wanted. “You're both handsome, but Fred's eyes seem a bit more thoughtful and reflective. Yours are a little shifty and have an evil glint in them. Fred is slightly taller. He is also smarter, more charming and a lot nicer. You're kind of mean. Sometimes, you're a real dick. And you have this annoying habit of smacking your food when you eat. It makes me want to punch you in the face. And you whistle too much. Especially when I am trying to study. That also makes me want to punch you in the face.”

“Is that all?” asked George sarcastically.

“And I think Fred is funnier.”

“Alright, that's it,” said George, looking around accusingly. “Who the fuck put Veritaserum in her drink?”

Several pairs of suspicious eyes scanned the room and finally settled on Ginny, who was putting in a concerted effort not to make eye contact with anyone. She finally caved and looked mischievously up at George and said rather wickedly, “Oh, is that what that bottle labeled Veritaserum was? My bad.”

“Ginny, you're a bitch,” slurred Hermione and then she started giggling again.

“How much did she have?” asked Fred, trying to hold her steady.

“The whole bottle.” Ginny shrugged.

“Bitch.”

“Merlin, Ginny,” said Fred. “What else did you spike her glass with. She's completely toasted.”

“Don't blame that on me. That was you idiots,” replied Ginny testily. “You and your stupid games. I think she drank every single time. Apparently there isn't anything she's never done. All that alcohol probably just hit her when she stood up.”

Hermione frowned. “I did not drink every single time. I didn't drink on the teacher one. I never got a chance to do Snape. And there are lots of other things I've never done. Do you want to do them with me, Fred?” asked Hermione, throwing her arms around his neck. “Or maybe I should wait for you know who to get his head out of his ass.”

“Ugh,” said Ron disgustedly. “She wants to do things with 'You Know Who'. That's sick!”

“You should call him Voldemort,” said Harry automatically.

“Not that you know who,” choked out Hermione, laughing hysterically before turning very serious. “Although, I did briefly contemplate having sex with him.”

Everyone stared at her as though she were crazy.

Ron turned red in the face and started sputtering. “You've thought about having sex with, with...”

“Voldemort!” finished Harry.

“I was only going to do it to save the world,” said Hermione defensively.

“Harry, you better start coming up with your own plan to save the frigging world,” said Ron adamantly.

Harry solemnly nodded his head in agreement.

“Fuck, Ginny. Why did you have to go and give her a whole bottle of Veritaserum?” complained Fred. “Haven't we already had enough truth for one night? A drunk Hermione is one thing, but a drunk Hermione on Veritaserum is quite another. She's going to be spouting off all kinds of shit all night.”

“I have my reasons,” said Ginny mysteriously.

“Well, your reasons are fucking up my plans,” grumbled Fred.

“And why is that Fred?” asked Ginny snidely. “Afraid she can't fake it now like the rest of your one night stands?”

“I know how to fake it,” said Hermione, sounding offended. “I could fake it for you, Fred.”

“No, I am not afraid of that. There will be no need for faking anything,” said Fred, annoyed at Ginny for her comment and at Hermione for thinking she would actually need to fake it. As if! “I just don't think the truth is going to work in my favor is all.”

“I don't know what your complaining about,” griped George. “She likes you best. I'm after fucking Percy.”

“Tied with Percy,” corrected Hermione, giving him a supportive smile and pat on the back.

“Whatever,” grumbled George. “The point is, she likes you, Fred.”

“Yeah, but she's not in love with me.”

“Oh, yeah,” said George, understanding suddenly dawning. “On the bright side, you don't have to be in love to snog. Or shag for that matter.”

“That's true,” said Hermione, nodding her head wisely. “I wasn't in love with either of the guys I shagged, and the sex was still very good. Goyle was bloody fantastic.”

“I think my ears are bleeding now,” complained Ron. “Thanks a lot Ginny.”

“Ginny's a bitch,” reiterated Hermione.

“Is that all you can say?” asked Ginny, starting to get mad.

“Um, Harry looks fucking hot in my knickers.”

“I knew you wanted Harry!” accused Ginny. “So much for just being friends. Admit it. You're sexually attracted to him, aren't you?”

“Yes. I'd like to get my knickers back right now. Using only my teeth. Oops! Did I say that out loud?” asked Hermione, giggling uncontrollably.

“Er, does anyone have the antidote?” asked Harry uncomfortably.

Ginny chose to ignore that. “Too bad you excluded Harry from your dare then. You'll just have to suffer your seven with Fred. And of course, this dip shit,” said Ginny, nodding her head over at Malfoy.”

“Now, you're not only a bitch, you're a stupid bitch. It's fourteen minutes, not seven. And who says I will be suffering anyway?”

“Whatever,” replied Ginny vindictively. “I guess that means I have fourteen minutes to compile my list for when you lose our little bet. Perhaps, if I come up with something clever enough, you won't think I am so stupid after all.”

“Never mind. You are not stupid. You are very, very clever,” said Hermione, sobering slightly. 

“But I'm still a bitch,” said Ginny with a smirk. 

“Yes,” agreed Hermione before clapping her hand over her mouth.

“So, Hermione,” began Ron with an impish grin. “Have you ever fantasized about me or Harry?”

“Yes. Both of you.”

“Together?” gulped Ron.

“Yes.”

“And what were we...” 

“Ron,” scolded George. “Quit taking advantage of your helpless friend's miserable state of truthfulness.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Ron guiltily.

“Now, Hermione,” said George “How about Fred and I? Ever think about a little twin action?”

“Yes. Several times today, in fact,” replied Hermione immediately.

“Excellent,” said George, rubbing his hands together, not quite as bothered about the fact that he was tied with Percy anymore.

“Hey!” cried Ron indignantly. “What about not taking advantage of a helpless friend?”

George shrugged. “Nobody expects me to be noble.”

“Come on, Hermione,” said Fred, pulling her by the arm. “If you are going to say or do anything else that you are going to regret, it may as well be when we are in the closet together. Alone.”

“Seven minutes,” said Malfoy, glaring at Fred and reaching for the nearest bottle of firewhisky.

“Don't think I won't be timing you either,” replied Fred before slamming the door in Malfoy's face.

The moment they were in the closet, Hermione started giggling.

“What's so funny?” asked Fred.

“This is one of my fantasies.”

“What? Being trapped with me in a closet with an angry Malfoy just outside the door timing us?”

“No,” said Hermione, giggling even more. “Just the part about being trapped in a closet with you. Although, having an angry Malfoy outside the door somehow makes it even naughtier.”

“So, what were we doing in this closet of yours?” asked Fred, leaning in.

“Kissing...” breathed Hermione.

“Would you like me to kiss you now?” he asked, nuzzling her ear.

“Yes, “ she said. “No!”

Fred pouted. “Now, that would be called sending mixed messages.”

“Kissing you would be bad.”

“Says who!” exclaimed Fred. “Did George fuck up my signature move? Because I swear, I am an excellent kisser.”

“No, your signature move was fine.”

“Fine! George must have fucked it up then. It should have had you melting in your shoes. Let me prove it to you.”

“No!” exclaimed Hermione, leaning away from him. “I meant it would be bad because of the repercussions.”

“Oh, you mean because of Malfoy,” sighed Fred.

“No! Of course not. I hope he thinks we're shagging right now. It serves him fucking right. He's an asshole.”

“An asshole in love.”

“With himself,” scoffed Hermione.

“You really don't think he's in love with you?” asked Fred incredulously.

“I don't know. Who knows what he's feeling? Or if he even has feelings.”

Fred grinned at her. “Well, if you hadn't drank all of the Veritaserum, we could have found out.”

“Don't remind me. Ginny is such a bitch.”

“So, what repercussions were you speaking of?” asked Fred curiously.

“I bet Ginny you didn't like me, and if I lose, she's going to make a list, and I will have to say every single horrible thing on it.”

“What does that have to do with kissing me?”

“Because kissing will prove that you like me.”

“Well, I do like you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. You're smart, funny, gorgeous, talented, sexy as hell. What's not to like?” asked Fred.

“That's horrible!” cried Hermione.

“Not exactly the response I was hoping for.”

“No, it means I already lost the bet, and now I will have to humiliate myself. Again!”

“So you have to say a few humiliating things. So what? After all of the crazy things we've heard tonight, what's a few more? Everyone is going to be so drunk that no one will remember it anyway,” reassured Fred.

“I suppose so,” said Hermione, not quite convinced.”

“And now we can finally get to the kissing. Shit. We only have three and a half minutes left. Do you always get what you want?”

“Usually,” said Hermione, smiling.

“Me too,” said Fred, leaning in to kiss her.

Hermione started giggling.

Fred sighed. “Why do girls always do that?”

“Sorry,” said Hermione, trying not to laugh. “It's just that you're always joking around, and it's hard to take you seriously.”

“You didn't laugh at George,” Fred mumbled.

“George took me by surprise.”

“So, all I have to do is take you by surprise?” asked Fred, stepping closer to her.

“Well, it's not really a surprise if you tell me you're going to do it. I can't promise I won't laugh,” replied Hermione, backing up against the wall.

“What if I murmured sweet boring nothings in your ear. Would that make you laugh?” asked Fred, so close now she could feel his warm breath on her neck.

“I don't know,” she said, swallowing hard. “Depends what it is I guess.”

“How about if I recited something from History of Magic?” he whispered in her ear. “Would that get you all hot and bothered?”

“Yes. Tell me something about History of Magic,” she said, getting excited.

“I was only joking. You really want to spend the rest of our time together discussing a boring ass class?” asked Fred, clearly disappointed.

“Of course, I do. You really don't know me very well, do you? But we can fix that,” said Hermione, pressing her body up against his. “You talk History of Magic to me, and I'll get you all hot and bothered.” 

“Shit,” gasped Fred. “I wish George and I wouldn't have goofed off so much in Binn's class. I would have paid more attention if I knew it could get me laid.”

“Shut up and talk history to me, Mr. Weasley,” said Hermione, kissing Fred's neck.

With some difficulty, Fred started to tell Hermione everything he could think of concerning goblin rebellions. Fortunately for him, he had somehow retained some of the knowledge from his Hogwart years and was able to spout off enough mundane facts to wet Hermione's appetite. He had always been the type of student who never had to study for exams and usually performed well under pressure. Of course, he had never taken an oral exam before where the examiner kissed, licked, bit and pinched him mercilessly while he recited his answers. If he had, he may have actually finished out his years at Hogwarts.

For Hermione, the pursuit of knowledge was definitely an aphrodisiac. The mixture of alcohol, Veritaserum and History of Magic was quite a heady combination, and she was feeling quite frisky indeed. With each new fact, Hermione explored Fred's body just a little bit further. He smelled so nice, and he was so muscular. And the fact that he was feeling her up at the moment while at the same time lecturing on one of her favorite classes was driving her absolutely wild. She had just licked a trail down his stomach and was about to slide her hands in his boxer shorts when Fred said, “The goblin rebellion that took place in 1620 near Hogsmeade was one of the bloodiest...” 

“1612,” murmured Hermione, running her fingers lightly about the waist band of his boxer shorts.

“What?” gasped Fred.

“That rebellion happened in 1612.”

“Whatever,” said Fred, breathing hard. “Urg the Unclean set up headquarters at the Inn and was plotting to behead... Why are you stopping?”

“That's not true,” said Hermione, letting his boxer shorts snap back against his skin.

“What?” asked Fred exasperatedly.

“There's no such person, or rather goblin. Ron made him up.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Fred, remembering. “That was classic. Where were we? Bodrod the Bearded...”

“That's not true either,” said Hermione, pushing him away.

Fred groaned. “I knew the whole Veritaserum thing was going to bite me in the ass.”

“Well, I might have gotten that far if you had stuck to the truth instead of making things up!”

“Ron made it up.”

“Whatever!”

“Hermione?”

“What?”

“What can I do to get you to snog me?”

“Start quoting something from _Hogwarts: A History_.”

“ _Hogwarts: A History_ makes you want to snog?”

“It might make me want to do more than just snogging,” she said suggestively.

“Maybe Veritaserum wasn't such a bad idea after all,” said Fred, grinning mischievously. “Did you know that the ceiling in the Great Hall is enchanted to mimic the sky outside?” asked Fred huskily, leaning in to nibble her ear.

“Yes,” breathed Hermione.

“And that you can't Apparate in or out of Hogwarts?” he said before starting to gently suck on her neck.

“Oh, yes,” moaned Hermione.

“And that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago,” continued Fred moving his hand under her dress to her breast.

“That is so fucking hot.”

“The founders were Godric Gryffindor...”

“Just fucking snog me already,” gasped Hermione, pulling his head toward hers. 

Fred didn't need to be told twice. Their lips pressed hard against each others as their tongues and hands delved in for a little more in-depth discussion. Fred's signature move left Hermione panting for more. It really was better than the carbon copy. And truth be told, that had been pretty damn good. Hermione's responsiveness inspired Fred to create a new signature move that was even better than the first. To show her appreciation, Hermione finally slid her hands into Fred's boxer shorts and slowly started sliding them down his hips.

“I think I'd like to meet Mr. Peppy Pee Pee Perky Pants now,” Hermione whispered into Fred's chest. “Can he come out and play?”

“I think he's feeling peppy enough,” choked out Fred.

“I'll say,” said Hermione, introducing herself.

“Merlin, Hermione. I never thought I'd say this, but I love _Hogwarts: A History_!”

And just as the acquaintance started, it ended as the door banged open and a livid Malfoy stood in the doorway. “Time's up!”

“Are you sure?” asked Fred. “Maybe your watch is fast.”

“It was actually up fifteen minutes ago,” said George, grinning. “Didn't you hear dip shit over here banging on the door?”

“Oddly enough, I didn't,” said Fred, grinning back.

“I did,” said Hermione, trying to tame her mussed up hair. “I was ignoring him.”

“How did you figure out my locking charm?” asked Fred.

“Please. We're twins. I figured it out fourteen minutes ago. I was being generous.”

“Not quite generous enough,” said Fred, pulling up his boxer shorts.

“What exactly were you doing in there?” asked George. “Anything I can live vicariously through?”

“We were discussing _Hogwarts: A History_ , my new very favorite book,” replied Fred, grinning.

“Right,” said George, not believing him.

“It's true,” said Hermione. “Fred was quoting from it, as well as from History of Magic. Although I must say he was much more impressive with _Hogwarts: A History_. I found his knowledge to be quite stimulating.”

“If you were really studying, then why were Fred's pants down?” asked George skeptically.

“She was looking at my mole,” offered Fred, trying not to laugh.

“I was,” agreed Hermione readily. “I found it right next to Mr. Perky Pants.

George started laughing.

“You vere studying with him?” accused Malfoy, scowling.

“Yes,” replied Hermione coldly. “And he was an excellent study partner.”

“It was more like exploratory research,” joked Fred.

George laughed again and gave him a high-five.

“How come when we studied with her, it was just plain old boring studying?” Ron grumbled to Harry.

Harry started choking and turned a bright shade of red. He took a long drink and refused to look up to see Ron and Ginny glaring at him. It was enough that he felt it.

“Bloody hell,” grumbled Ron.


	43. Drunken Debauchery

“My turn,” said Malfoy, roughly grabbing Hermione's hand and his bottle of firewhisky on the way to the closet.

“Seven minutes,” yelled Fred as Malfoy slammed the door in his face. 

“Fucking Veasel-lys,” growled Malfoy as soon as they were alone in the closet.

Hermione started giggling.

“Vhat?” asked Malfoy annoyed.

Hermione laughed even harder. “I love it when you say 'w' words but especially when you say 'Weasley'. Say, 'We want Weasley's Wizard Wheezes while we wait.'”

“And vhy the fuck vould I vant to say that?” asked Malfoy, scowling.

“Because it's fucking hot. I mean it's annoying. Annoying that I find it so fucking hot. Shit! I hate Veritaserum.” 

Malfoy smirked and took a step closer to Hermione. He slowly and methodically said, “You may vant Veasel-ly's Vizard Vheezes vhile ve vait, but I vant something else entirely.”

Hermione swallowed hard. She suddenly realized how close she was standing to Malfoy and how little room there was in the closet. The thought of spending seven minutes alone with him made her slightly nervous and if she was completely truthful (which she fucking had to be) insanely turned on.

Malfoy took a long swig of firewhisky and then finally asked, “Haff you ever shagged Fred Veasel-ly?”

“No,” answered Hermione.

“Veaselette said you did,” said Malfoy jealously, referring to Ginny's comment during their wrestling match. “And his idiot twin as vell.”

“She's a bitch.” Hermione shrugged.

“So you've said. Vhy vould she say that if it vasn't true?”

“To make you jealous.”

“And vhy vould that make me jealous?” asked Malfoy, narrowing his eyes.

“I don't know. Why would it?” Hermione shot back.

“Do you like him?” Malfoy asked suddenly.

“Who?”

“Fred,” he growled.

“Yes.”

Malfoy didn't like that answer. “Do you love him?”

“No.”

“Are you in love vith Veasel?”

“I suppose you are referring to Ron,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes. “No, I am not in love with him. He is more like a brother to me. A very annoying, younger brother.”

Malfoy took another drink and looked at Hermione curiously for a long time.

“Well,” prompted Hermione, unable to stand the suspense. “Aren't you going to ask me who I am in love with?”

“No.”

“Why not?” asked Hermione taken aback. She had been positive he was going to ask her. The fact that he wasn't was... well, unsettling.

“I don't know if I vant to know,” he replied simply.

“Whatever,” muttered Hermione crossly. There obviously wasn't any reason for her to feel nervous about being in a closet with Malfoy. It seemed nothing much was going to happen after all. Apparently, Malfoy was only interested in asking her questions. And not even the important ones.

“Lock the door,” Malfoy said gruffly.

“Why?” she asked defiantly, annoyed that Malfoy was ordering her around. He was such an asshole sometimes. Scratch that, all of the time.

“Do you vant to be interrupted?”

“No.” Damn Veritaserum.

“Then lock the fucking door,” he said rudely.

Hermione glared at him but performed a complicated Locking Spell none the less. She was curious to see if Fred and George could break through it. She doubted it. “So, what now, genius?” she asked sarcastically.

“Here,” said Malfoy, shoving the bottle at her. “Drink this.”

Hermione quickly pushed it away. “No! Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked shrilly.

“You are drunk,” replied Malfoy pointedly.

“I'm starting to sober up. Quickly. No doubt as a result of your charming personality. Believe me, if I was really drunk, we wouldn't be arguing like this.”

“Vhat vould ve be doing?”

“Shagging,” said Hermione before clapping her hand over her mouth. Fucking Veritaserum.

Malfoy smirked. “Drink first, then I vill consider it. I don't vant any Veasel-ly germs.”

Hermione knew that it probably wasn't very smart to drink any more, but then again, she wasn't feeling particularly smart at the moment. “Why does it even matter if I have Weasley germs or not? What are you going to do? Kiss me?” she asked sarcastically before taking a drink. 

“Maybe,” replied Malfoy, watching her closely.

Hermione immediately started choking. When she recovered, she asked with great trepidation in her voice, “You're going to kiss me?”

“Do you vant me to kiss you?”

“Yes,” she answered automatically before glaring at him. “Stop doing that!”

Malfoy smirked. “But it's so damn fun. And I haff so many questions. Like... do you find me sexy?”

“Yes,” she spat. 

“I knew it,” Malfoy said cockily.

“I also think you're annoying, frustrating, pompous, insensitive and down right mean. And I hate your pink hair. It's positively horrid,” said Hermione triumphantly.

Malfoy scowled in response. “And yet you would still fuck me, wouldn't you?”

Hermione glared at him and grudgingly said through gritted teeth, “Yes.”

“I thought so.” He smirked.

“I would probably regret it though,” added Hermione spitefully.

“Probably,” agreed Malfoy, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I don't know why Ginny didn't give the Veritaserum to you,” mumbled Hermione bitterly.

“She did.”

“What!”

“She gave half to me and half to you.”

Without hesitation, Hermione leaned forward grabbed his face and kissed him smack on the lips. It wasn't a long kiss, but it wasn't a short one either. She broke away and asked, “Did you like that? How did it make you feel?”

Malfoy looked at her in complete and utter shock for a moment but then after a while started laughing. “I didn't say I drank the Veritaserum. I poured mine into your glass.”

“Asshole,” said Hermione sourly.

“Vhy vould she try to give us Veritaserum?” Malfoy asked.

“Because she's a bitch. With a theory.”

“Vhat theory?”

“She thinks we're in love, so she's trying to play matchmaker. The Veritaserum was probably to get us to admit our true feelings for one another.”

Malfoy looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't. Hermione grabbed for the bottle of firewhisky. “Do you mind? My buzz is starting to wear off.”

“I don't think that is such a good idea,” said Malfoy hesitantly.

“Really?” said Hermione taking a long drink. “I think it's an excellent one.”

“Vhat about your problem?” he asked uncertainly.

“Do you want to have sex with me, Malfoy?”

Malfoy looked as though he stopped breathing for a moment, but he somehow managed to choke out the word, “No.”

“Then I guess there isn't a problem then, is there?” said Hermione with a smirk. She sat down on a pile of Ron's clothes and took another drink.

Malfoy scowled but sat down next to her. He grabbed the bottle out of her hand and took a drink himself. “I hate you.”

Hermione couldn't help smiling. “I'm pretty sure our feelings are mutual, Malfoy.”

They passed the bottle back and forth in silence for a while until Hermione started feeling tipsy again. She leaned back against the wall, put her legs across Malfoy's lap and made herself comfortable. “I'm getting sleepy. How much longer are you going to wait before you make a move?”

Startled, Malfoy asked, “Move? Who says I am going to make a move?” 

“I just thought you might,” said Hermione, yawning, “since you wouldn't let me re-spin.”

“I told you I don't do favors,” said Malfoy, unable to stop staring at the long shapely legs now in his lap.

“I know what you said, but I think you just didn't want the bottle to land on Ron. George was right though. Fred is definitely more dangerous than Ron.”

Malfoy muttered something under his breath. Absentmindedly, he began gliding his fingers up and down her leg. “So, vhat kind of move did Veasel-ly make?”

“He tried kissing me,” said Hermione, shrugging as though it weren't a big deal.

Malfoy looked up. “Vhat do you mean he tried? You didn't let him kiss you?”

“I started giggling.”

Malfoy let out a harsh laugh. “He's probably used to that. Did he try kissing you again after that?”

“No.”

Malfoy smirked.

“I kissed him.”

“Vhat!”

“I said I kissed him. He started talking about History of Magic.”

“So?”

“So, I kissed him and stuff.”

“And stuff!”

“Yes.”

“Vhy vould you vant to do that? He's a Veasel-ly!”

“Did I not just tell you that he was talking about History of Magic?” asked Hermione exasperatedly.

“Granger, you are the only person I know who thinks studying is an aphrodisiac.”

“Really?” replied Hermione with a smirk. “Because I know of at least two others who think so. Well, now they do anyway.”

Malfoy glared at her. 

Hermione glared back. “If you aren't going to make a move, we might as well leave. Our seven minutes were up a while ago.”

“How do you know that? I didn't hear anyvone banging on the door.”

“You wouldn't because I put up a Silencing Charm.”

“And vhy did you do that?” asked Malfoy.

“So we wouldn't be disturbed,” replied Hermione, glaring at him.

“And vhy didn't you vant to be disturbed?” asked Malfoy, fully smirking now.

“Because I thought you would be making a fucking move by now!” she exclaimed angrily.

Malfoy's hand traveled farther up her leg. “And did you vant me to make a move by now?”

Hermione's breath caught in her throat, but it couldn't stop her from saying the truth. “Yes.”

Malfoy leaned in closer. “Vhat do you vant me to do right now?”

“Kiss me,” she breathed.

Malfoy's lips softly brushed hers. “Like that?”

“No. Longer,” she gasped.

Malfoy's lips lingered teasingly over hers. “Like that?” he asked against her mouth.

“No. Deeper. Harder,” she choked out, unable to contain herself. His mouth pressed hard against hers and his tongue plunged into her mouth relentlessly but just as she was about to fully succumb to his kiss and give in to her desires, he pulled away again. He was teasing her.

“Vhat do you really vant?” he asked seductively.

“I want you,” Hermione purred, letting her hand slide slowly down his chest and stomach until it came to a rest on his obvious erection. She let her hand linger there for a moment relishing the feel of him through the material of his expensive designer pants. He wanted her too. She could feel it. With a glint in her eye, she squeezed him hard, causing him to gasp out loud and said, “to devour me.”

Without further ado, Malfoy pulled her onto his lap and readily deepened the kiss. Aggressively, he explored every inch of her mouth until she felt dizzy from the intensity of it. Their mouths fit together perfectly, and Hermione couldn't help wondering if other parts of them would fit together just as satisfyingly. Not ending the kiss, Malfoy leaned her back on Ron's pile of clothes and covered her body with his. She could feel her back arching and her body pressing into his. The weight of his body on hers and the heat of his kisses were intoxicating. When he finally released her from the kiss, she saw fireworks. Literally.

“Those bloody bastards,” said Malfoy, looking up at the ceiling angrily.

Hermione couldn't help smiling. Fred and George had apparently sent their infamous Wildfire Whiz-Bangs under the door while her and Malfoy had been otherwise occupied. Beautiful bursts of color exploded all around them. It was rather romantic, and despite Fred and George's real intentions, rather put her in the mood. Hermione effortlessly cast a Shield Spell around them and pulled Malfoy back down on top of her. “Forget those. You're the one I want making me see fireworks,” she whispered suggestively.

Malfoy looked deeply into her eyes and gently traced his fingers over her kiss swollen lips. It was an incredibly romantic gesture, especially with the fireworks going off all around them. Between fate and the Weasley twins, there really didn't seem to be much of a chance of them not ending up together. Malfoy's finger ran from her lips to her chin. It traveled over her throat and across her collar bone. It dipped between her breasts and tickled its way on top of her stomach, moving down her leg until he reached her sexy high heel shoe. 

Raising her leg slightly, he started sprinkling gentle kisses along her ankle and then slowly and purposefully worked his way back up her leg. Hermione's body trembled despite the warmth spreading to her very core. Biting down on her lip, Hermione reveled in the sensations she was feeling. And as she lay there relishing in his attentions, Hermione had a feeling that Malfoy was not a selfish lover after all. Yes, she had a very good feeling indeed.

“Oh!”

“Ow!”

“Oh!”

“Ow!”

“Oh!”

“Fuck!”

Hermione started shaking with laughter. “Sorry. I just can't hold a Shield Spell when you're doing that. It's a little hard to concentrate.”

“Those fucking Veasel-lys,” growled Malfoy, rubbing his ass where the Whiz-Bangs had singed him.

Hermione pushed him on his back and crawled on top of him. Straddling him, she whispered sexily, “Say that again.”

“I don't know vhat you mean,” grumbled Malfoy.

“Yes you do. Say it.”

“No.”

“Come on,” pouted Hermione. “Say it.”

“I don't vant to,” he said stubbornly.

“I'll make it worth your while,” said Hermione, running her finger along his jawline until she reached his mouth. Pressing her finger against his lips, she suggestively stuck her finger into his mouth and then slowly pulled it back out.

“Veasel-lys,” said Malfoy, swallowing hard.

Hermione smiled and started unbuttoning his shirt one maddening button at a time. When she had finally unbuttoned the last button, she let her hands lightly brush his skin as she slowly opened his shirt. Sliding her hands up his stomach and over his chest, she leaned in close until she was face to face with him and was able to reach his lips with hers. “Say it again,” she whispered against his mouth.

“Veasel-lys,” he gasped before he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately. Hermione could feel the electricity between them. And apparently other places as well.

“Oh! Ow! Fuck!” yelled Hermione, breaking away from the kiss too soon. “I don't think this is going to work. I can't hold a Shield Spell under these conditions, and I think I've had too much to drink to vanish them. I had to do a really complicated spell to get rid of the Whiz-Bangs at Grimmauld Place.”

“Veasel-lys,” growled Malfoy again.

“Don't say that!” moaned Hermione.

“Vhy? It's their fault.”

“I don't want you to say it because it makes me horny. I'm already sexually frustrated enough as it is, and this obviously isn't going to happen right now.”

“You know, I find it extremely disturbing that you get all turned on at the mere mention of the Veasel-lys. Vhy the fuck vould that make you horny? It's disgusting.”

“It's because you say it all sexy,” muttered Hermione. 

“Did you jump your boyfriend every time he said Veasel-ly?”

“No,” answered Hermione, turning red.

“Vhy not?”

“Because he isn't you!” shouted Hermione, turning even redder, perhaps just as much from anger as from embarrassment.

Malfoy paused for a moment and then asked, ”It only turns you on vhen I say Veasel-ly?”

“Yes! How many times do I have to tell you? Whenever Viktor said it, it was just another word. But when you say it, it's dripping with jealousy, and it makes me think that maybe, just maybe, you want me. Of course, I'll never know that for sure, will I? Because it's not like you would ever fucking tell me! Now, stop asking me stupid questions!” yelled Hermione, frustrated in every sense of the word.

Not knowing quite how to respond to that, Malfoy decided to stick with what he knew best. Pissing her off. “I can ask you vhatever I vant. I told you not to drink. It's your own fault that you drank Veritaserum. Vhy the fuck vould you do something so stupid?”

“Because you told me not to, you idiot! And I was trying to take out the Weasley twins.”

“And how did that vork out for you?” asked Malfoy sarcastically.

“Not very well... but the night is still young,” added Hermione, glaring at him.

“And vhat is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I am not going to fail. No matter what.”

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. “Vhat are you going to do?”

“I am going to get Fred and George drunk and then sneak into their room and get my pictures back.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“By playing more drinking games?” She knew it was a stupid plan the moment it came out of her mouth, and that was more than likely the reason it came out in the form of a question, but it's not like she was going to tell Malfoy that. Unless of course he asked her and then she would have to. Fucking Veritaserum.

“No,” said Malfoy with finality in his voice.

“Did you just tell me no? Are you fucking kidding me?” It really pissed her off when he told her what to do. No one told Hermione Granger what to do except Hermione Granger. And maybe her mother.

“You getting drunk vith the Veasel-ly twins is a stupid idea, and you know it.”

“It's my stupid idea, and it's none of your business!”

“I vill not allow it.”

“You do not get to tell me what to do, Malfoy. If I want to get drunk with the Weasley twins, I can do it. If I want to shag them, I can do that too. In fact, if I really want to, it seems that I can even shag them both at the same time. Good to know I have options, isn't it? So, unless there is something that you want to tell me that might actually make me want to change my mind on the subject, you can shut the fuck up. Oh, you don't have anything to say? What a fucking surprise. I think our time is up.” Hermione angrily threw open the door and stomped out, taking her Shield Spell with her. Malfoy immediately received a Whiz-Bang in the ass for his troubles.

“Mione!” yelled the boys drunkenly when Hermione finally stumbled out.

“You look like you could use a drink,” said Fred, pulling her into his lap.

“Thank you, Fred. I most certainly could use a drink,” replied Hermione, glaring over at Malfoy, who was of course scowling back at her. Well, she'd show him who was boss. There was no one bossier than Hermione Granger, that was for sure.

“What's the matter, Mione?” asked George. “Didn't Mr. Grouchy Pants over there satisfy you?”

“No, he did not. And stop calling me Mione!” she snapped.

“Can't be helped, Mione. Too drunk to say your long ass name,” claimed George. “You sure are cranky. Hey, maybe you need to get laid.”

“Has anyone ever told you how brilliant you are?” asked Hermione sarcastically.

“You have.” George smirked.

“Oh, yeah.” Hermione smirked back. “And was that before or after the Veritaserum?”

“Merlin, you're hot when you banter. Want to have sex?” asked George.

“Yes,” Hermione answered promptly.

“With me?” asked George, looking hopeful.

“No.”

Fred started laughing. “Nice try, mate.”

“Well, at least I wasn't shot down by McGonagall.”

“Like you'd have a chance with her either, George.”

“I bet I could do her. I remember the way she used to look at me in class.”

“Stop talking about doing McGonagall. You're going to make me sick,” complained Ron.

“Says the idiot who did the horizontal mambo with Trelawney.”

“Who said it was horizontal,” threw back Ron.

“Now, who's making who sick?” asked George, continuing to bicker with Ron.

“So, Hermione. Like our fireworks?” asked Fred, smirking.

“No,” grumbled Hermione, taking a drink. 

“We're even then. I didn't like your Locking Spell very much,” replied Fred.

Hermione brightened at that piece of information. “I knew you guys wouldn't get it,” said Hermione smugly.

“Yeah, yeah. You're the smartest witch of our age. Blah, blah, blah. We get it,” huffed George.

“What we don't get,” said Fred, “is your wanting to spend a whole fucking hour in a closet with him.”

Hermione looked over at Malfoy with a shocked expression on her face. “We were in there for an hour?” gasped Hermione. Wow. That deserved a drink.

“Yes,” said Fred sourly. “I don't suppose you would care to share what you were doing in there that would take 53 minutes over your allotted time?”

“No. I most certainly would not like to answer that. Hey. Why didn't you ask me a direct question, so I would have had to answer?”

“Ginny won't let us,” grumbled Fred.

“Said she'd curse our balls off if we forced you to tell us what happened. Something about it being none of our business,” added George.

“It is none of your business. Thanks, Gin. Maybe you're not such a bitch after all,” Hermione said, smiling at her.

“Oh, I wouldn't go that far,” said Ginny, smiling back. “You haven't seen my list yet.”

“Oh God. I forgot about that.” The thought of Ginny's list terrified her. Maybe even more than Voldemort. Hermione took a long drink and then after thinking about it some more, quickly took another one. She needed all the courage she could get. Besides if she got drunk enough, maybe she would be able to block this out of her memory. “Okay, I'm as ready as I'm going to be. Give it to me.”

“Oh, I don't think so,” Ginny said, shaking her head in amusement.

“What do you mean?” asked Hermione confused. “Do you want me to read it or not?”

“Oh, I want you to read it alright,” said Ginny, smiling wickedly. “Just not now.”

Hermione closed her eyes to mentally prepare herself and somehow squeaked out, “When?”

Ginny smirked. “At breakfast tomorrow.”

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. “I'm not doing that at breakfast!” Hermione gasped. “Everyone will be there. Your parents, Fleur's parents, Charlie...”

“Exactly.”

“You are such a bitch!”

“So I've heard,” said Ginny, smirking.

“What's going on at breakfast?” asked Ron.

“Hermione's going to dish up something good,” replied Ginny, trying not to laugh.

“Does it involve sausages?” asked Ron hopefully.

“Number five does,” said Ginny, unable to hold in her laughter anymore.

Fred squeezed Hermione around the middle. “So much for sleeping in tomorrow.”

“So much for your theory that everyone would be too drunk to remember anything,” said Hermione, glaring at him.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn't really thinking with my brain.”

“I get that now,” said Hermione, taking another drink.

“So, do you regret our seven plus minutes together?” whispered Fred, tickling her ear.

“Not entirely,” said Hermione, sneaking a look at Malfoy, whom she noticed was staring intently at them.

“Hermione? Do you like surprises?” asked Fred, turning her to face him.

“No...” she began but was quickly interrupted by his lips on hers. His kiss was slow and sensuous and when he finally pulled away, she found herself saying, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Whether it was the alcohol or the kiss or the fact that Malfoy couldn't take his eyes off of her, she wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it was making her feel pretty damn good at the moment. She felt completely relaxed for once and completely happy not to think about anything at all. No Voldemort, no pictures or lists, no consequences. She felt warm and fuzzy, and she couldn't help smiling at Fred. And Malfoy.

“So,” said Fred, nuzzling her neck. “Do you want to go back to my room?”

“No!”

Before Hermione could even think to give her answer, she found herself being yanked off Fred's lap and into Malfoy's arms. The abrupt change of position from sitting to standing made her head spin, and she clung to Malfoy for support. She rather liked this new position though and even after her head cleared, she continued to hold onto Malfoy. She did feel compelled to answer Fred's question for herself however.

“Um, I don't think I want to right now, Fred,” said Hermione, laying her head against Malfoy's chest and breathing in deeply. 

Hermione stood there with Malfoy for quite a while before she finally whispered into his chest, “Are you sure you don't want to ask me? This could be your last chance. I probably won't tell you tomorrow. The truth anyway.”

She waited for him to ask the question but got no response. A flicker of anger and perhaps disappointment crossed her face, but instead of walking away, she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him longingly. She pressed her body into his and could feel his heart pounding against her. Pulling away, she put her lips to his ear and whispered, “You are a coward.”

As Hermione stepped away from Malfoy, she stumbled slightly. It wasn't quite as easy or fun to stand without Malfoy's arms around her. So, she sat down. It just so happened, it was in Harry's lap. Hermione started giggling. “Hello, Harry.”

“Hello, Hermione,” said Harry uncomfortably.

“You're wearing my knickers. Is it weird that I like you wearing my knickers?”

“Er, kind of,” replied Harry awkwardly.

“I love you, Harry,” declared Hermione, throwing her arms around his neck. “I don't love love you, but I love you. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I love you too, Hermione,” replied Harry, patting her on the back because he didn't know what else to do.

“Harry, I want you to know something. If you really need me to, I'll have sex with Voldemort to help you save the world. That's how much I love you.”

“Um, thanks, but Ron and I are coming up with a plan, so I don't think you will have to do that.”

“Are you sure?” asked Hermione skeptically. “Ron's plans kind of suck.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Ron offended. “You're one to talk.”

“My plans only suck if I want them to,” said Hermione, giving Malfoy a wink.

“Ugh,” grunted Ron in disgust. “I don't want to hear about it.”

“Hey! I thought that was our plan,” said George indignantly.

“And I really don't want to hear about that,” replied Ron, making a face.

“Agreed,” said Ginny. “No more talk of blow jobs, especially with Hermione in Harry's lap.”

“Oh, Ginny,” said Hermione, somewhat mockingly. “You're such a prude. Harry doesn't seem to mind.”

“Get off,” said Ginny angrily.

“Don't worry, Gin.” Hermione laughed. “He totally is.”

Ginny turned a scary shade of white. “Does my boyfriend have a hard on?”

“I don't know,” replied Hermione, completely oblivious. “Who's your boyfriend? If it's Harry, then yes.”

Ginny yanked Hermione off Harry's lap. “I think it's time for you to say goodnight, Hermione.”

“Oh, alright. You are such a party pooper. Goodnight, Fred,” said Hermione, throwing her arms around him and giving him a lingering kiss to remember her by. 

“Maybe I'll see you later,” said Fred, winking.

“Goodnight, George,” said Hermione, kissing him on the lips as well, which he eagerly returned and then some. When she finally pulled away from him, Ron was right there ready for his goodnight kiss. 

Hermione giggled but said, “Goodnight, Ron,” and gave him a respectable kiss on the lips. He seemed to enjoy it though and had a dazed expression on his face. 

Harry looked at Ginny before being careful to only give Hermione a chaste kiss on the forehead. Hermione smirked at Ginny before she said, “Goodnight, Harry,” and pinched him on his red knicker clad ass.

“Alright, that's enough of that,” said Ginny, pulling Hermione toward the door.

“But what about him?” asked Hermione, pointing to Malfoy.

“Oh, he's probably going to be up all night as it is, and we need to turn in now, so we have time for our pillow and tickle fight,” said Ginny mischievously, looking over at Malfoy, who glared back at her. 

“Ooh, I love pillow fights!” exclaimed Hermione giddily.

A collective groan could be heard from the guys.

“Sure you don't want us to join you?” asked George. “Or at least let us watch?”

Ginny quickly clapped her hand over Hermione's mouth and answered for the both of them, “No!” 

When they got back to Ginny's room, Ginny asked, “So, what happened with Malfoy in the closet? Did you christen Ron's dirty underpants or what?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “We kissed,” she said, flopping on the bed.

“And?”

“And I saw fireworks.”

“Ugh. That is so frigging cliché,” said Ginny disgustedly.

Hermione threw a pillow at her. “Tell that to your brothers.”

“Ah, Whiz-Bangs. I bet that was romantic,” said Ginny slyly.

“Well, it would have been,” admitted Hermione with a sigh. “If I could have held the Shield Spell.”

“So, you didn't get very far then?”

“Not far enough,” huffed Hermione.

“Fred is such a sore loser. When you were in the closet with Malfoy, I told him he should give it up. That's probably when he sent in the fireworks. Idiot. It's a lost cause, if you ask me. It's obvious that you and Malfoy are hopelessly in love. Although what on earth you see in him, I have no idea. He's such an ass.”

“A sexy, smart ass.” Hermione giggled.

“I'll give you smart ass,” said Ginny dryly. “Speaking of asses, he's right outside the door.”

“He is!” exclaimed Hermione, sitting up too quickly. “What do you think he's doing out there?”

“Guarding your virtue,” she scoffed. “What's left of it anyway. He probably doesn't want my brothers getting into your nonexistent knickers.”

“Ha, ha,” replied Hermione sarcastically. “I'd tell you you were funny, but I am still suffering the effects of Veritaserum thanks to you.”

“One of my better plans. Pretty clever, huh?”

“Yes. Or it would have been if Malfoy had actually taken it instead of giving it all to me.”

“Yes, that was a pity, but I think my plan will still work. I'm sure you professed enough for the both of you.”

“Well, I would have, if he would have asked.”

“He didn't ask?” Ginny exclaimed in disbelief.

“No, he didn't ask.”

“Bloody coward.”

“That's what I said.”

“Well, he obviously already knows then,” said Ginny adamantly.

“Knows what?”

“That he's in love with you.”

“I really don't see how you get that out of it.”

“Oh, Hermione. Sometimes you are so dense. If he didn't care about you, he would have asked just to humiliate you.”

“I suppose,” said Hermione uncertainly.

“Maybe we can slip him some Veritaserum at breakfast,” mused Ginny.

”You already used it all.”

“Oh yeah,” said Ginny disappointed.

“Let's let him in.”

“In here? Why?” asked Ginny.

“So, he can get into my nonexistent knickers,” replied Hermione mischievously.

“Can't you wait until you get back to Grimmauld Place?” whined Ginny.

“No,” replied Hermione. And that was the truth.

“Ugh. I'm going to bed,” said Ginny, putting a pillow over her head.

“Sweet dreams.”

“Not bloody likely.”

Feeling like a naughty girl, Hermione crept out of bed and opened the door. Malfoy tumbled in. Maybe he did like her after all. Hermione looked at him slyly. “Why aren't you in bed?”

“You blew it up remember?” said Malfoy sarcastically as he stood up and brushed himself off.

“Oh yeah.” Hermione grinned as though that were really funny, which it was. Then she pulled him by the collar and yanked him inside. “I guess we'll just have to find you another bed then.

“In here?” yelped Malfoy.

“Of course. Or would you rather I asked Ron to share with you?” she teased, backing him up to her bed. “If I remember correctly, you rather enjoyed sleeping in Ron's bed last time.

Ginny snorted at that.

Malfoy glared. “I'll just sleep in the hallvay.”

“Don't be silly. There is plenty of room here.”

“Vhat about her?” asked Malfoy, nodding over at Ginny.

“Ginny's sleeping.”

“I am not.”

Hermione threw another pillow at her. “Just fucking pretend already!”

Loud snoring could be heard coming from Ginny's bed.

“I can't sleep vith that loud snoring going on,” insisted Malfoy, scowling.

“Who said anything about sleeping?” said Hermione suggestively, pushing Malfoy back on her bed.

Ginny choked mid snore.

“You know, Malfoy,” began Hermione, crawling her way up his body. “I can't take much more of this sexual tension. It's making me crazy. If you don't do something about it soon, I'm going to end up fucking a portrait. Or a Weasley.”

Malfoy didn't need any more goading to spur him into action. He flipped her over on her back and started kissing her feverishly. His expert hands roamed their way across her body causing her to grind her hips into his. Their chemistry was incredible. He longed to remove her dress and have her naked body under him, but he hadn't forgotten the curse. And he had grown rather partial to her bushy hair. Besides, he had a strong desire to see her wild sex hair after a wild night of sex. And at the moment, that seemed like a distinct possibility. 

He carefully slipped his hand into the top of her dress and pulled it to the side revealing her right breast. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to her nipple and flicked his tongue across it. Hermione moaned and pulled his shirt out of his pants and slid her hands underneath to feel his well-toned abs. Malfoy kissed his way up to her neck. He knew she liked when he did that. She was so sensitive and responsive. Making his way back to her lips, he kissed her until they were both wild with desire. With their clothes still awry, he could feel his bare skin on hers and the feeling was indescribable. Unable to take much more, he yanked her dress up to her waist. He was finally going to have her. His fingers felt their way between her legs, and he didn't need Veritaserum to tell him that she wanted him. He unzipped his pants and Hermione pushed them down with her foot. He was about to enter her when he paused. There was something he really needed to ask her first.

Hermione looked up at him in confusion. “Why are you stopping?”

“Are you sure you vant to do this?” he asked.

Hermione relaxed and smiled up at him. She pulled him back down and gave him a long passionate kiss. “The answer is yes, in case you didn't get that.”

“Mmm,” said Malfoy, kissing her back. “But vill you regret it?”

“Ugh,” said Hermione frustrated. “Will you stop asking me questions and shag me already? How am I supposed to know if I'm going to regret it or not? We haven't even done it yet! If it makes you feel any better, this doesn't really count anyway.”

“Vhat do you mean, it doesn't count?”

“Because you are in Viktor's body,” said Hermione as though it were obvious. “Now, stop thinking about it so much and kiss me already.”

Malfoy kissed her, but he could not stop thinking about it. She was right. This didn't count. She might as well be making love to Viktor Krum right now. With a sigh, Malfoy rolled off of her and looked her in the eyes. They were beautiful but slightly glazed over. She was probably still pretty drunk. He was too for that matter. It was probably best if he stopped it now before it went too far. Why did he have to develop a conscience now of all times? 

“Granger...”

“Call me Herm-own-ninny!”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Herm-own-ninny...”

“Yes, Viktor,” she said sweetly before she burst out laughing.

“Granger,” warned Malfoy.

“Alright, alright. I was just joking. Sorry, Fred.”

“Do you make it a habit of calling out other guys names?” asked Malfoy, scowling at her.

“I don't know. I've only ever called out your name. Maybe we should experiment and see,” said Hermione, reaching out to stroke him. 

Malfoy dodged her grasp and zipped his pants back up. “You're probably not going to remember this because I haff a feeling you are completely sloshed, but I think maybe I... like you. There I said it. I don't know vhen it happened or vhy it happened, but for some crazy fucked up reason, I like you. And the first time ve're together, I vant you to feel me inside you and not your dick of an ex-boyfriend.

“That is so romantic.”

“Fuck off.”

Hermione ignored his outburst and laid her head on his chest. “I like you too, Malfoy...” she said with a sigh. And then she started giggling. “Naked.”

Before Malfoy could even register what she said, he felt his clothes vanish. Shocked and quite naked, Malfoy looked down at Hermione only to find her fast asleep with a smile on her face. He shook her gently. Just because they weren't going to have sex didn't mean they couldn't fool around a little bit. He was naked after all. However, Hermione only snuggled into him closer and wrapped her leg around him. He could feel her bare leg against him, and it was making him literally ache for her. He wasn't sure how much more of this sexual tension he could take either. She was going to be the death of him. He tried shaking her again, but it was to no avail. She was completely passed out. 

“And next time ve do this, no firewhisky, said Malfoy with a groan.

His frustrated groan was met with a snort of laughter.

“I thought I told you to fuck off.”

“Whatever,” huffed Ginny, turning over in her bed and pulling the covers over her head.

“And no Veasel-lys,” muttered Malfoy, wrapping his arms tightly around Hermione, eventually drifting off into a very frustrated sleep. Again.


	44. Madcap Mission

Mmmmm. So warm. So nice. So... Hermione's eyes snapped open. It was pitch black in the room, but there was no mistaking it, someone was in her bed. And they were naked. Oh, Merlin. Please don't let it be Ginny. Still a little tipsy, Hermione was having a hard time remembering exactly what had happened the night before. She remembered coming back to the room with Ginny but after that, it was a little fuzzy. She could feel warm breath on her neck and smooth, bare skin against her back, but for the life of her, she had absolutely no idea who it was. An arm was possessively thrown over her, pinning her arms to her sides. Feeling around under the covers, Hermione's hand came in contact with something hard. Grasping it, she let out a little moan and so did the person lying next to her. Oops! Definitely not Ginny.

Shit. What if it was Malfoy? Shit. What if it wasn't Malfoy? Hermione wasn't sure what to do. She needed to think, but whoever the hell it was, was now grinding his erection into her backside. And if that weren't enough, his hands were starting to roam. Oh my. That was... distracting. Who could think under these conditions? Well, she had to try. With an enormous effort, she thought back and remembered snogging George and Fred and Malfoy and... Oh Merlin, she had even snogged Harry. She certainly had been busy... getting busy. It could really be any of them. Hopefully, it wasn't Harry though. She rather liked living. Ginny was the Avada first, ask questions later kind of girl. 

Slowly, Hermione's memory started to return. She vaguely remembered playing some humiliating games. Probably best not to remember that. She remembered being in the closet with Fred. Nice. She remembered being in the closet with Malfoy. Really nice. This was so not helping. It could be anyone lying next to her and all of this reminiscing was getting her all hot and bothered. Or maybe, it was just the hand that had slipped its way inside her dress and was now fondling her breasts that was getting her all hot and bothered. It was hard to say. Whatever the reason, she was getting very turned on, and if she wasn't careful, she was going to start grinding her ass into what's his dick. 

And who knew where that would lead? Probably to half-conscious sleep sex. Ah, sleep sex. So good. And sleepy. However, sex when you were still half asleep was for someone you were familiar with and felt comfortable with, not someone you didn't even know the identity of. It was one thing to let yourself get felt up by an unseen mystery man; it was quite another to have sleepy sexual relations with him. If you were going to have sex with a stranger, it should be hard and fast and in the men's room of some seedy club. It should definitely not be sleepy. She was obviously still slightly drunk, or all of these slutty thoughts would have been buried a little bit deeper. 

Hermione tried harder to focus. She had a funny feeling that there was something important she should remember. Perhaps, it had to do with the naked guy lying next to her. Let's see. She had come back to the room with Ginny and then... ohhhh. Oh, God. It was really hard to think when he was doing that. His hand was on the move again. It was trailing deliciously down her thigh, and he was pulling her dress up. It felt terribly, wonderfully naughty, even more so because she had no fucking clue who it was. Was his name really that pertinent when it felt so good? Yes, it was. She should be sensible, not so damn slutty. It was no time to be thinking like Lavender fucking Brown. 

Now, where was she? Oh yeah, last night. Hmm. Mmmm. Focus. Someone had been at the door. Who was it? Think. Think. Her dress was now up past her waist. She could feel his thingy (she refused to call it the p-word and bits really did not do it justice) rubbing against her. She should really stop so and so from doing such and such before he did an absolute no no. If he wasn't careful, he was going to accidentally have sex with her. Uh, oh. Accidental sex? Oh, God. It was Malfoy. 

As if on queue, he started kissing her neck in just the right spot. Just the way she liked it. Just the way “he” did it. Oh, yes! Oh, no. It really was Malfoy. Why was he in her bed? Naked! Did they have sex? No, but something monumental had happened. If only she could remember what it was. However, at the moment, she was lucky she could remember her own name with the things he was now doing to her. He was touching and rubbing her in just the right places and in just the right way. It figured Malfoy could do this in his sleep. Fucking show off. She should really stop him. She really, really should. Well, maybe she should think just a little bit longer. Yeah, think. There was something she had to remember after all. However, after kissing her neck and surrounding areas for a while, Malfoy moved on top of her and now he was awfully close to his final destination. Accidental sex was a distinct possibility. He really could do this in his sleep. Impressive. But so not happening.

“Malfoy, wake up,” whispered Hermione somewhat urgently but not terribly.

“Ten more minutes,” mumbled Malfoy into her neck.

Well, that was reasonable. What was ten minutes in the scheme of things? Ten minutes wasn't going to hurt anything. In fact, it didn't hurt at all. It felt quite good actually. Hmmm. Maybe too good. “Um, Malfoy.”

“Can't you just give me fifteen minutes?”

“I thought you only needed ten.”

“I can do it in ten, but it would be better in fifteen. Come to think of it, give me twenty.”

“Malfoy,” said Hermione a little more firmly.

“What do I have to do to get you to shut up? Oh, I know,” he said mischievously, right before he kissed her. Sneaky bastard. 

Hermione took a long moment to enjoy the kiss before she started to over think things. This was not a good idea. She was now sober enough to be very conscious of that. Of course, she was also conscious of the fact that kissing Malfoy at least felt like a very good idea. A very, very good idea. It felt incredible. It felt... right. And that is exactly what was so very wrong about it. They were enemies, right? They didn't like spending time together. They didn't like kissing or doing any of those other likeable things. They didn't like... each other. Oh, shit. They did! Hermione remembered. Everything. Oh, shit. They liked each other. They “like” liked each other. Malfoy liked her. And she liked Malfoy... on the floor. Without a second thought, she pushed him right off the bed. 

“Ow, fuck! Granger, I better be on the floor because you like it rough and not because you just threw me out of bed.”

“You... you like me!” she accused.

“You like me,” he returned calmly.

“I, I...” She had nothing to say to that. Absolutely nothing.

“If it makes you feel better, I only said that I liked you to get in your... vagina.”

“What!”

“Well, I was going to say to get in your knickers but as you weren't wearing any at the time, or ever really, it seemed more appropriate to say vagina.”

“Malfoy, that is not appropriate at all. And not true. You do like me. You 'like' like me.”

“Prove it.”

“I don't have to prove it,” said Hermione crossly. “I remember everything. I know exactly what you said last night.

“I wasn't the one under Veritaserum now, was I? And I think we both know I am quite capable of lying to get what I want.”

“You wanted me?” Hermione couldn't help asking. She was so pathetic.

“I don't know that it was necessarily 'you' that I wanted.”

Ugh, she walked right into that one. “I fucking hate you, Malfoy,” said Hermione angrily. If there was anything worse than being a chicken, it was a sucker.

“I guess that means the Veritaserum wore off then.” It was still too dark to see his face, but Hermione could hear him smirking. Asshole.

Well, two could play at that game. “I never said I liked you, Malfoy. I only said I liked you naked. And in case you don't remember, you happened to look like Viktor at the time.” Was that a scowl she heard? Hopefully, he could hear her smirk. Just in case he couldn't hear it and needed a visual, she whispered a Lumos. And then she screamed bloody murder. “Ahhhhhhh!”

“Would you shut up?” growled Malfoy, standing up. “You're giving me a headache.”

“You're naked!” exclaimed Hermione. Not that she didn't already know he was naked, but she had been under the very wrong impression that he was still under the effects of the Polyjuice Potion. She had gotten used to seeing him in Viktor's body. And this was, well, shocking. She couldn't help staring at “it”. Malfoy's “it”.

“Just figuring that out now, Granger. So much for being the smartest witch of our age. You think you would have noticed that earlier when you were grabbing my dick.”

“That was an accident,” Hermione hissed. Oh, crap. She had grabbed Malfoy's dick. Malfoy's actual dick. And she had just snogged him. While he was naked. As himself. Fuck. It was one thing to fool around with Malfoy when he looked like her ex-boyfriend; it was quite another when he was so Malfoyish. It hadn't seemed so awful when it wasn't Malfoy's actual body she was doing naughty things with. But now... Holy shit. “It was an accident!”

“Well, I'm pretty sure it wasn't an accident last night when you were using Evanesco so loosely and attacking me.”

“I...” Shit. She had nothing to say to that. Absolutely fucking nothing. She had attacked him. Damn firewhisky and its whoring side effects.

“And,” continued Malfoy. “I'm pretty sure that snogging session we just had a few minutes ago, while I was naked, I might add, wasn't an accident either.”

“You snogged me first!”

“You grabbed my dick first.”

“I didn't know it was your dick!”

“And who's dick did you think it would be?”

“I don't know, but you are supposed to be Viktor! It didn't count when you were Viktor. And now... What the fuck were you thinking? You should have been Viktor!”

“I was sleeping. How am I supposed to take Polyjuice Potion when I'm sleeping?”

“Well, you shouldn't have started snogging me.”

“Well, you shouldn't have grabbed my dick.”

“I don't have time for this,” said Hermione exasperatedly. “I have things to do.”

“At four o'clock in the morning?”

“Yes. I have a mission to complete, and you are keeping me from it.”

“You're going to their room now?” asked Malfoy a little jealously. Fucking Weasley twins.

“Yes,” said Hermione, getting out of bed.

“I'm going with you,” said Malfoy firmly.

“You are not invited,” said Hermione, although not very convincingly. In fact, she was already making up the bed when she said it. She knew damn well that Malfoy would come, whether she wanted him to or not, and she couldn't not make the bed if it wasn't being slept in. That would be wrong.

“Of course, I'm going, Granger. You'd probably fuck it up, or more than likely, get fucked if you went there by yourself. What's the plan?”

“Ginny is the plan.”

“Ugh, Weaselette is coming?”

“Yes. She was invited. I need her to get past their wards. If you don't like it, you don't have to come.”

Malfoy scowled but did nothing to suggest he wasn't coming. Hermione walked over to Ginny's bed and removed the pillow covering Ginny's head. Shaking her none to gently, she whispered urgently, “Ginny! Wake up.”

“No,” mumbled Ginny, grabbing the pillow and putting it back over her head.

“Ginny, I need you. We have to do this now. We're not going to get another opportunity like this.”

“Hermione, I am not into a threesome unless it involves Harry,” said Ginny from beneath the pillow.

Hermione grabbed the pillow and hit Ginny with it. “Get up! I'm talking about getting my pictures back, not having a threesome.”

“Well, sorry,” said Ginny sleepily, “but when I was last conscious, it certainly wasn't pictures that you had on your mind.”

Too true. “Well, they are now,” said Hermione. “Let's go get this over with before those morons you call brothers wake up.”

“I'm so tired,” said Ginny yawning. “I had nightmares of you and Malfoy 'doing it' all night long and didn't get much sleep. Can't you just let me sleep a little longer? Fred and George won't be up for ages. We have plenty of time.”

“No, we don't have plenty of time. I'm not risking not getting my pictures back just so you can get a little extra beauty sleep.”

“Well, she sure could use it though,” said Malfoy snidely.

Ginny turned over to give Malfoy a nasty reply and came face to face with...

“Malfoy's dick!” screamed Ginny. “Ahhhh!”

Malfoy seemed relatively unaffected by the outburst and just stood there with his fingers in his ears and a bored expression on his face. Apparently, he was used to his dick making girls scream. Hermione, however, quickly pounced on Ginny, trying to shut her up before the whole house woke up. “Shut up, Ginny!” Hermione wrestled with Ginny until she finally pinned her down. She sat on top of Ginny with her hand over her mouth to muffle the screams. Hermione looked over at Malfoy and couldn't help rolling her eyes. He was obviously enjoying this. Way too much. “For Merlin's sake, Malfoy. Put on some fucking clothes.”

“I can't,” said Malfoy, not embarrassed in the least. “You vanished them last night. Remember?”

“Ginny, Malfoy needs to borrow some clothes.” Ginny bit her hand in reply. “Ow, fuck!” yelled Hermione.

“I've a good mind not to help you out at all,” huffed Ginny angrily. “What the hell kind of wake up call is that? Shoving your boyfriend's white, albino dick in my face.”

“He's not my boyfriend, and it's not white. It's kind of pink. Like his hair,” said Hermione, smirking over at Malfoy.

“I don't care what color it is,” ranted Ginny. “That is not the first thing I want to see in the morning. I think I might be scarred for life.” Ginny shoved Hermione off of her and marched over to her closet. She took out a yellow bathrobe and threw it in Malfoy's face.

“I'm not wearing girl's clothes,” complained Malfoy.

“You are,” said Hermione, “or you aren't coming.”

“He's coming?” asked Ginny, clearly disgusted by the idea.

“Yes,” said Malfoy defiantly.

“Then get the fuck dressed,” snapped Hermione.

Malfoy held up the bathrobe by two fingers with a distasteful expression on his face. “It has ugly yellow flowers on it.”

Hermione pointed her wand at it and said a simple spell. Now, it had ugly pink flowers on it. “There, now it matches your hair.”

“And your...” began Ginny.

“Shut up,” said Malfoy, shoving his arms into the ugly pink robe.

“Oh, don't you like talking about your pink dick?” sneered Ginny.

“I don't like you talking about it.”

“Well, you shouldn't have shoved 'it' in my face then.”

“Like I would shove it in a Gryffindor's face.”

“You want to rethink that statement, Malfoy?” asked Ginny, smirking.

This would definitely be a good time to interrupt. Hermione cleared her throat. “Can you two just get along long enough for me to find my pictures? Then you can go back to hating each other.”

With one last glare, Ginny grudgingly agreed and Malfoy grunted something or other. It was a little disconcerting that the retrieval of her pictures depended on the help of Ginny and Malfoy, the two least helpful people in the universe, but beggars obviously couldn't be choosers. They quietly crept out of the room (with only a minimal amount of shoving and wand jabbing) like the covert operatives they were. Ginny in her big-ass dress, Hermione in her slutty-ass dress and Malfoy in Ginny's ugly-ass pink flowered bath robe. They made quite a team. Fuck. She was never going to get her dirty pictures back. She was completely screwed. Again. Leaving their wands unlit, they made their way down the dark hallway to Fred and George's room in relative silence. Relative being the key word.

“Who's touching my boob,” hissed Ginny.

“Sorry.” Malfoy laughed.

“Yeah, sorry it was 'my' boob,” muttered Ginny. “Oh, sorry, Malfoy.”

“What for? Ow, fuck! Watch the family jewels.”

“Like their worth anything,” Ginny said snidely.

“Ow, shit. Who pushed me into the wall?” snapped Hermione.

“Sorry,” mumbled both Malfoy and Ginny.

“You two are so immature,” huffed Hermione.

They continued on for almost a whole minute without incident until Malfoy broke the silence. “Someone's touching my ass.”

“Well, it's not me,” insisted Ginny.

“Granger?”

There was a slight pause and then Hermione finally muttered, “Let's just all keep our hands to ourselves.” 

“I don't know,” said Malfoy mockingly. “You think you can do that, Granger?”

“I'll try to resist the urge to strangle you if that's what you mean.”

“We're here,” said Ginny. 

“Finally,” said Hermione with relief in her voice. That was the longest short walk down a hallway she had ever experienced.

Standing in front of Fred and George's door, Ginny whispered, “Their password is always one of their joke products. Like... Canary Creams?” Nothing.

“Ton-Tongue Toffee?”

“Puking Pastilles?”

“Fever Fudge?”

“Wildfire Whiz-Bangs?” 

“Spell-Checking Quills?” tried Hermione.

“It figures, you'd guess that one,” snickered Malfoy.

“Do you have a better guess, dumb ass?”

“How about Egg-cellent Egg-sploding Eggs?” choked out Malfoy through his laughter. 

“Oh, yeah? Well, how about Catastrophic Cowlick Crème?” shot back Hermione.

“Truth Bubbles,” taunted Malfoy.

“Harry Potter Fan Club Kit!” exclaimed Hermione triumphantly.

“Slutty chicken girl chews!”

“That's not even a real one, Malfoy,” exclaimed Hermione angrily. “Why are you here? You're not even helping.”

“Well, we guessed everything already. It probably isn't even a joke product. Are we just going to trust Weaselette on this?”

“We have not guessed everything yet. Let's see,” said Hermione, who was nothing if not thorough, “Extendable Ears, Fainting Fancies, Pygmy Puffs, Headless Hats, U-No-Poo, Skiving Snackboxes, Nosebleed Nougats...”

“Knickerless Nougats,” interrupted Malfoy, laughing.

“Malfoy, I swear. I'm going to...”

“Uh, oh,” gasped Ginny.

“What?” asked Hermione, annoyed at the interruption.

“I know what it is.”

“Well, then say it already,” said Hermione impatiently.

”Naked Nougats,” said Ginny. A soft click could be heard.

“Naked Nougats?” asked Hermione, getting a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“This is not good,” said Ginny in a scary something horrible is about to happen type of voice. “The traps are usually a variation of whatever the password is. When the password was Canary Cremes, they had a bird-themed defense system.”

“So, that means...” began Hermione.

“We're getting naked,” finished Ginny grimly.

“But you can bypass it, right? I mean, you said you sneak into their room all of the time.”

“Well, they've never had a whole naked theme before. How was I supposed to know they were going to do that?”

“Because I already told you!” snapped Hermione. “Why the fuck did I go on that reconnaissance mission earlier if you weren't even going to use the information I so painstakingly got for you.”

“Well, I thought they just set a few additional booby traps especially for you. I didn't know it was going to affect me as well.”

“Booby,” said Malfoy, snickering.

“Shut up, Malfoy” snapped both Hermione and Ginny.

“So, you were just going to hang me out to dry?” exclaimed Hermione angrily. “You are such a bitch, Ginny Weasley.”

“Like it's a real surprise to you, Hermione. You called me a bitch about fifty times last night.”

“That's because you are!”

“I know that already!”

“I can't believe you didn't prepare for this possibility,” complained Hermione. “I would have researched it.”

“Well, why didn't you, Hermione? Too busy getting it on? With everyone!

“Jealous that you weren't the one getting it on with Harry?”

“You little...” said Ginny, raising her wand.

“Now, I love a good cat fight as much as the next guy,” interrupted Malfoy, “but are we doing this or not?”

“Malfoy, you are not going,” said Hermione quickly and very adamantly. This was going to be embarrassing enough as it was without him ogling her.

“I am too going.” There was no way in hell he was missing this.

“I have a Petrificus Totalus that says you're not,” said Hermione, pointing her wand at him.

“Make that two,” said Ginny, pointing her wand as well. “And a Bat Bogey Hex just for fun.”

“Wait,” said Malfoy, grabbing Hermione's wand hand. “Think about it. You're running out of time. I can help you, and you need all the help you can get.”

Hermione hesitated. She really could use his help. She needed to get those pictures back and soon.

“He just wants to see you naked,” said Ginny cynically. “We can find the pictures without him.”

“I've already seen you naked. And I want those picture back just as much as you do. 

“You do?” asked Hermione in surprise. Maybe he was the knight in shining armor type of guy after all. Doubtful, but who knew? Sometimes, people could be very surprising. 

“I'm more than likely in some of those stupid pictures, and I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea. It would completely ruin my reputation.”

And sometimes, people weren't surprising at all. “So much for being noble,” said Hermione, but she lowered her wand anyway. She was desperate.

“Fine,” huffed Ginny, conceding, “but I better not catch you looking at me, you fucker.”

“Like I want to see a naked Weasley,” sneered Malfoy.

“Whatever. You first, Ferret,” said Ginny, lighting her wand and opening the door.

Malfoy rudely pushed past Ginny and immediately tripped in the doorway, falling flat on his face. His clothes unceremoniously vanished soon after.

Laughing, Ginny stepped over the invisible trip wire in the doorway and said, “Oh, did I forget to tell you about that? There is always a trap in the doorway.”

Trying not to snicker too much, Hermione followed, being very careful not to trip the invisible wire or be too obvious about checking out Malfoy in all his naked glory.

Malfoy grumbled something not so nice and walked over to his bag to pull out a pair of silk pajama pants, which he quickly slipped on. Darn.

“Alright,” began Ginny. “I think we should...”

“Shouldn't we be a little quieter?” interrupted Hermione in a cautious whisper.

Without answering, Ginny turned on the lights in the room and sent a Silencio at the door. She then walked over next to George and let out the most piercing scream Hermione had ever heard. Malfoy had to cover his ears and Hermione deeply regretted that she didn't. Hang-overs sucked.

“Point taken,” said Hermione, groaning slightly but relieved that Fred and George were out for the count. This made things much easier. Well, not including the whole naked thing. 

“They sleep like the dead,” said Ginny. “You and Malfoy could have sex in their beds, and they still wouldn't wake up.”

“I don't think we'll be testing that theory,” said Hermione.

“Well, you did blow up my bed,” pointed out Malfoy.

Hermione decided to ignore him. “So, where are the other traps?” she asked Ginny.

“Everywhere,” said Ginny grimly. “I don't think we'll be able to avoid getting naked. We can try a Shield Spell, but it probably won't be very effective against this type of defense system. Our best bet is probably just to steal Fred and George's clothes and do a lot of quick changes.”

“They have a Multiplying Spell in place,” said Hermione, remembering how more and more of her clothes had kept vanishing when she raided their wardrobe earlier.”

“Best not to put too many on at a time then. We'll go through them too quickly otherwise. You want Fred or George's clothes?”

“Fred's,” answered Hermione immediately. She had used up most of George's already.

“Fine. I'll take George's. He has a better sense of style anyway.”

“What about me?” asked Malfoy.

“I try not to think about you that often, to be honest,” replied Ginny.

Hermione walked over to Fred's wardrobe and grabbed an armful of clothes. “I'll search Fred's side of the room.”

“Of course, you would pick him. You just can't wait to get in his bed, can you?” asked Malfoy disgustedly.

“Fred has the most incriminating pictures. That is the only reason I chose him, and I never said anything about getting in bed with him. I don't fuck around with people when they are sleeping like some sick people do,” Hermione said rather pointedly.

“Malfoy's right,” said Ginny thoughtfully. “Maybe, you should get in Fred's bed.” 

“What! Wait!” sputtered Malfoy. “I didn't say that.”

“Think about it, Hermione. Ever since his bet with George, Fred's one and only purpose has been to get you into his bed. And hiding your pictures there, would be the one sure fire way to get you there. It's genius.”

“Maybe,” said Hermione. She didn't really want to go there. “Where does he usually keep his diary? You said that you saw them in there. I should check there first.”

“In his bedside table. There is a locked drawer with a hidden compartment in the back. He constantly changes the locking spells on it, paranoid bastard, but he hasn't been able to keep me out yet.”

“It shouldn't be too difficult then,” said Hermione as confidently as she could.

“George should be easy too,” said Ginny. “He always keeps all of his dirty magazines under his mattress. He's not too creative in that respect.”

“Fine,” said Hermione. “Let's get this over with.”

“What am I supposed to be doing then if you two have this all figured out?” whined Malfoy.

“You should check the wardrobes,” said Hermione, trying not to smile. “I noticed some suspicious looking boxes in there earlier.” George's wardrobe was riddled with Vanishing Spells. She couldn't wait to check out Malfoy's ass, uh, progress.

Hermione tentatively walked over to where Fred was sleeping. He was sprawled out on his bed with the blankets all twisted around him. He looked so sweet and innocent lying there. Of course, she was quite sure he was naked under those blankets. Innocent, he was not. A stray lock of hair had fallen across his face, and without thinking, Hermione gently reached out to brush it away. However, the moment she made contact with him, her clothes vanished. Gasping, Hermione instinctively covered herself with her hands, but then almost immediately reached up to see if she still had her hair. Luckily, the hex on her dress had worn off, and she still had a full head of hair. Bushy hair was far better than no hair.

Breathing, a sigh of relief, Hermione glanced over to to see Malfoy staring at her. He started raising his eyebrows up and down suggestively but then accidentally touched something and lost his pajama pants. Muttering a curse word, he waved his fake wand madly about until it finally produced a pair of underpants that he could put on. Laughing, Hermione put on a Weasley sweater and resumed her search. She could have watched Malfoy losing his clothes and conjuring underpants all day, but unfortunately, she had work to do. Not wanting to touch anything else, Hermione used her wand to try to open the drawer. It took nine different spells, five shirts, two sets of dress robes, one Weasley sweater and a sleazy looking smoking jacket to get the job done. It took another three shirts, five Weasley sweaters, seven pairs of pants, three dress robes, six everyday robes, one bathrobe and oddly enough a pink tutu to get the hidden compartment open which was, in fact, hiding absolutely nothing. Discouraged, Hermione looked over at Ginny to see her creatively wearing a pair of pants tied around her chest and another around her waist. “Nice outfit, Gin.”

“At least it's not as slutty as yours,” retorted Ginny.

Hermione looked down at her pair of scarlet boxer shorts with “Gryffindor” written across her ass and the silk neck ties draped over her shoulders just barely covering her breasts and had to agree. “Any luck?”

“I've found three so far. One hidden between the mattresses, one tucked in the springs under the bed and one stuffed in his pillow. How about you?”

“Zero.”

“What about you, Pinkie?” asked Ginny.

“If you make one more comment about my hair, I swear, you will regret it.”

“Who says I was referring to your hair?” Ginny smirked.

“For Merlin's sake, Malfoy. Why don't you use your wand and change into a new pair of underpants?” exclaimed Hermione, gawking but only a little.

“I can't,” said Malfoy, angrily waving his wand. “It ran out after seven pairs. Damn crappy wand. Why don't you share some of your underpants?”

“Because this is my last pair, and I haven't found one damn picture yet.”

“So? What do you need underpants for? You're used to going without knickers.”

“Ha ha.”

“I told you, Hermione,” said Ginny, “you're going to have to get in Fred's bed. They're probably stuffed in his pajama pants or something.”

“I don't think he's wearing pajama pants, Gin.”

“Oh, well, maybe he stuffed them...”

“Don't even say it. I am so not going there,” interrupted Hermione. She didn't think she was anyway.

“I was going to say in his teddy bear. He always used to hide stuff in it. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Fred sleeps with a teddy bear?” asked Hermione incredulously.

“Yeah, Mr. Peppy Pants.”

“He named it after his...”

“Yeah,” replied Ginny, rolling her eyes.

“Alright, I'm going in,” said Hermione, taking a deep breath.

“As long as 'he's' not going in,” replied Malfoy.

Hermione tentatively reached out for the bed and immediately lost one of her ties. Instinctively, she snatched her hand back. Trying again, she lost two more ties. Perhaps, from a different angle. Three more ties. Hermione was now down to three ties and one pair of boxer shorts. This was not going well.

“Oh, just do it already!” exclaimed Ginny.

Hermione glared at her. “Stop watching me! You're making me nervous.”

“Quit being such a wuss, Hermione. Just dive in and get it over with. Who cares if you lose your clothes? It's not like your current attire leaves a lot to the imagination.”

“I know,” said Hermione. “It's just... 'He's' watching.”

Ginny glanced over at Malfoy, who seemed to be abnormally preoccupied with a rubber chicken. “Alright, I'll create a diversion. When you hear the scream, go.”

“What are you going to do to him?” asked Hermione a little afraid.

“You'll see,” said Ginny with a mischievous grin as she set off toward Malfoy. “Let's just say, I am getting even.” 

“What do you want?” asked Malfoy, looking up warily as though expecting to get hit with a Bat Bogey Hex at any moment.

“Just checking on your progress,” said Ginny, shrugging. “Did you find George's sex toy box yet?”

“No, thank Merlin,” replied Malfoy sourly.

“I guess you just weren't looking hard enough,” said Ginny, standing up on her tiptoes to pull a box off the top shelf. The moment she touched the box, the pants covering her chest disappeared. Fortunately, her long red hair strategically covered her breasts.

“Would you like to do the honors, or should I?” asked Ginny, smirking.

“I'm not opening it,” said Malfoy distrustfully.

“Scared?” taunted Ginny.

“No,” retorted Malfoy, but he made no move to open the box.

“You should be,” said Ginny, opening the box and then dropping it in Malfoy's lap.

Malfoy arrogantly pulled out a pair of pink furry handcuffs and swinging them back and forth from his fingertips asked, “Is this supposed to scare me?”

Ginny laughed. “No, but I thought this might. Boo!”

Malfoy looked up to make a snide comment and came face to face with a naked Weaselette. A naked, red-haired Weaselette.

“Ahhhhhhh!” screamed Malfoy very much like a girl.

Hermione taking that as her cue, dove onto Fred's bed and quickly got under the covers. Yep, Fred was definitely naked. And unfortunately, so was she. Just perfect. At least Malfoy hadn't seen anything. “Thanks, Gin.” 

“Easy as cherry pie,” replied Ginny with a smirk. 

“My eyes are on fire!” screamed Malfoy, carrying on immaturely. “I've seen Weasel Beaver!”

“Now, we're even, asshole,” said Ginny vindictively, before she turned away and went back to resume her search.

“That horrible image is burned in my mind now,” whined Malfoy. “Quick, Granger, let me see you naked, so I can get this gruesome picture of Weasel Beaver out of my head.”

“No!” exclaimed Hermione, pulling Fred's covers up to her chin.

“Come on,” pleaded Malfoy, heading towards her. “Just a quick peek.”

“Malfoy, go away. I'm busy.”

“What are you doing under there?” asked Malfoy suspiciously, trying to pull the covers back.”

“I am looking for my pictures,” snapped Hermione, holding onto the covers tight.

“Then you won't mind if I take a peek then,” said Malfoy, yanking on the covers.

“I do mind,” said Hermione, slapping his hand away only to find herself suddenly handcuffed to him. “You idiot! This is no time for games.”

“I didn't do it,” said Malfoy, trying to yank his hand away from hers.

“Ouch! Stop doing that! Just use the key.”

“I don't have a key.”

“Then why did you use them!”

“I didn't use them!”

“Oh, so they just magically handcuffed us together?

“Yes!”

“Well, go get the fucking key!”

Malfoy lifted their linked wrists and gave a little shake. “Do you really want me to go get the key? Because believe me, I do not mind dragging your ass out of bed.”

“No, never mind,” said Hermione quickly. “Ginny! Can you go get the key? Please.”

Ginny looked up from her search and said rather matter of factly, “There is no key.”

“What!” exclaimed Hermione.

“They're Bondage Bracelets. One of Fred and George's inventions.”

“Well, how do we get them off if there is no key?” asked Hermione, starting to panic. Perhaps, she would have to gnaw off Malfoy's hand.

“I don't know. They sell them in the back room. I'm not allowed to go in the back room. Apparently, age counts for more than maturity level. They let Ron in.”

“Ginny, I know bloody well that you have been in the back room. Like you've ever let a little thing like rules stand in the way of doing what you want. Now, how the fuck do we get them off?”

“Maybe you have to perform a sexual act,” said Ginny, smirking evilly. Bitch.

“That is not helpful, Ginny.”

“Well, you shouldn't have activated them if you weren't willing to experiment.”

“I didn't activate them. I didn't do anything!”

“You must have done something,” said Ginny, suddenly knowledgeable on the subject. “The Bondage Spell doesn't take effect unless you do 'something'.”

“All I did was slap his hand,” huffed Hermione.

“To each their own,” said Ginny, shrugging.

“It wasn't sexual!”

“Well, it was to one of you,” said Ginny, turning her twinkling eyes on Malfoy.

Hermione turned her eyes on Malfoy as well, but they certainly weren't twinkling; that's for damn sure. They were glaring. “You did this, didn't you?”

“I don't know what you are talking about,” said Malfoy aloofly.

“It really did turn you on when I hit you third year, didn't it?”

“I told you I was just fucking with you,” insisted Malfoy. “Those Truth Bubbles weren't real.”

“Even so, you were still telling the truth, weren't you?”

“Prove it.”

“Okay,” said Hermione, slapping him hard on the hand.

“Ow!” yelled Malfoy, giving a noticeable twitch.

“Ha!” yelled Hermione triumphantly.

“That doesn't prove anything. It was just a little twitch. That happens sometimes.”

“Yeah,” agreed Ginny. “He is a twitchy little ferret after all.”

Malfoy didn't appreciate her support.

“Get into bed,” ordered Hermione.

“What!” yelped Malfoy.

“I said get into bed!”

“What are you going to do?” asked Malfoy suspiciously, although a little excitedly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I am going to look for my pictures, and I can't do it with you standing out there like an idiot,” said Hermione, waving about their handcuffed hands as a reminder.

Malfoy started shaking his head. “Hell, no. I am not getting in a Weasley's bed.”

“You've already been in a Weasley's bed,” pointed out Hermione.

“Not with a Weasley in it,” said Malfoy, not willing to budge.

“Malfoy, I can't look for my pictures unless you are willing to cooperate with me. I thought you were here to help.”

“Did you really think I was here to help?”

“Well, no, but that's what you said.”

“I think, we both know I am a liar,” said Malfoy, giving her a wink.

“I'll let you peek,” said Hermione desperately.

“What?”

“You heard me,” said Hermione, scowling at him. “I am not repeating myself.”

“Wellllll,” said Malfoy, drawing it out dramatically. “Maybe if you say please.”

“Forget it. I am not begging you,” huffed Hermione.

“Then I guess we're at an impasse.” Malfoy smirked.

Hermione yanked hard on the handcuff, and catching him off guard, effectively pulled him on top of her. Using the momentum, she rolled them over until she was on top, smirking down at Malfoy.

“I guess you decided to let me peek after all,” Malfoy smirked back.

Shit. She had not only rolled herself on top of Malfoy but on top of the covers as well. She quickly scrambled under the covers to hide her nakedness, but Malfoy, suddenly finding himself in an awkward position next to a naked Fred, completely freaked out and ended up tossing them both out of bed.

“Would you two quit fucking around,” called Ginny from the other side of the room. “I've already found three pictures. How many have you guys found?”

Hermione and Malfoy untangled themselves from each other and without a single shred of chivalrous behavior somehow managed to stand up. All three of them stood there naked, glaring at one another. 

“I bet I'll find my last two pictures before you two are able to find any,” taunted Ginny.

“We'll take that bet,” said Malfoy haughtily.

“We will not,” gasped Hermione.

“We will. What's the bet?”

“Whoever wins gets to make the other do something embarrassing at breakfast.”

“Deal,” said Malfoy. 

“Are you crazy! What are you thinking?” asked Hermione, shaking his shoulders.

“It's hard to think at all when you're jiggling like that,” said Malfoy, staring memorized down at her chest.

Hermione slapped him across the face in an effort to knock some sense into him and because it felt oddly satisfying to smack him a good one.

“That's making it worse actually,” groaned Malfoy.

“I am the smartest witch of our age, and I have never won a bet against Ginny Weasley. How the fuck do you think you are?”

“I'm a Malfoy,” said Malfoy importantly.

“I'm a Malfoy,” mimicked Hermione pompously. “That's you're fucking plan? Good luck with that.”

“Oh, you think you're not helping?” asked Malfoy, raising his eyebrow.

“I'm not getting roped into another bet with Ginny Weasley,” huffed Hermione, crossing her arms across her chest, “forcing” Malfoy to touch her boob. “Stop that,” she hissed.

“You made me,” he said, laughing.

“I didn't make you squeeze it,” snapped Hermione.

“While you two have been pointlessly bickering and groping one another, I just found a picture in George's sex toy box,” said Ginny smugly.

“Shit. Get a move on, Granger. I can't let a Weasley beat me.”

“I've already beaten you,” replied Ginny. “Do I need to remind you how I beat the crap out of you? It's a story I don't mind retelling.”

“I won that wrestling match. Weasley rules,” said Malfoy, glaring.

“Whatever. You won't win this time,” said Ginny, going back to her search.

“Come on, Granger. Get your ass in that bed.”

“I thought you were going to win this bet on the Malfoy name alone. What do you need me for?” asked Hermione dryly. 

“I need you to do the dirty work,” said Malfoy, pushing her onto the bed.

Hermione climbed under the covers, and Malfoy climbed in after her. She was now lying naked in between a naked Fred and a naked Malfoy. This was the most bizarre dream she had ever had. Hopefully, she would have an orgasm soon, so she could wake up from this nightmare.”What now?” asked Hermione.

“Start groping!”

Hermione reached out to start groping somewhere around Fred's midsection, when her hand was immediately snatched back. “I thought you told me to grope him,” she hissed.

“Not with that hand!”

“Oh,” said Hermione, staring at the handcuffs. “Well, I don't see why I have to do all of the work. You can help. It's your stupid bet.”

“It's your stupid pictures,” shot back Malfoy.

“Fine,” snapped Hermione. “This is really awkward though,” she said, trying to feel around Fred with the other hand.

“Tell me about,” retorted Malfoy.

Hermione ignored him and continued feeling up Fred. He had rock hard abs, very smooth and tight. She could only reach his chest with her elbow, but it felt pretty nice too. She carefully felt around Mr. Peppy Pants' vicinity and soon became reacquainted with a very eager friend. Hopefully, the rest of him didn't wake up so easily. 

“Hey, Hermione,” called Ginny. “Did you find Mr. Peppy Pants yet?“ 

“Um, yeah,” replied Hermione hesitantly, not looking at Malfoy.

“I meant the teddy bear.” Ginny laughed.

“Um, no, never mind.”

“Just get on with it,” growled Malfoy.

“You get on with it,” snapped Hermione. “Why don't you search by his head? I can't reach that far.”

“I'm not touching a Weasley.”

“Well, then I need to use my other hand. I can only reach the lower regions with this one.”

“Apparently. Fine. Use your other hand. But make it quick.”

Hermione felt around Fred's chest, just to make sure she hadn't missed anything. She couldn't reach much farther without breaking Malfoy's arm off, so she had to scootch her way up a bit so she could search his pillow. She was just starting to poke around in there when Fred decided to roll over. Her breasts were right in his face. She could barely breathe. “Um, Malfoy,” she whispered. “I don't think this is such a good idea.”

“Oh, let me do it,” huffed Malfoy, who was in an odd position and couldn't really see what he was doing. He carelessly poked around Fred's pillow, continually shoving Hermione's breasts into Fred's face. The sensation must have aroused Fred, and Hermione couldn't help gasping when Fred's tongue darted out and licked her left nipple. She tried to pull away, but Malfoy yelled at her to hold still. She did as she was told but only because she didn't really want to have to describe her current situation. Fred's tongue circled her nipple and before long he took it into his mouth and began sucking. Hermione couldn't help moaning.

“Would you be quiet,” hissed Malfoy. “I think I may have found something.”

“Ohhhh, oh-kay,” breathed out Hermione. She could feel Malfoy's warm breath on her neck and his body pressing into hers, as Fred continued to suck on her left breast. And if that weren't enough, Fred's hand started to roam. This was the most crazy erotic thing she had ever experienced. Hermione closed her eyes and just let herself feel. Pretty soon though, she felt Malfoy tense.

“Why the fuck is Weasley's hand on my ass?” asked Malfoy angrily, quickly pulling the pillow out from under Fred's head and at the same time, Hermione's breast from his mouth.

Hermione lay on her back trying to control her breathing. She looked from Fred's sleeping, smiling face to Malfoy's wide awake, scowling one and could only think to say, “Because you have a nice ass?”

Malfoy had nothing to say to that. Absolutely fucking nothing.

“That's what you and my mum tell me anyway. Personally, I don't see what is so great about it,” Hermione said, trying to gracefully back out of what she had just said. Damn Malfoy and his nice ass.

However, it was all for nothing really because Malfoy wasn't thinking about asses at the moment. He was thinking about breasts. Hermione's breasts. “Is your nipple glistening?”

“Pardon me?” asked Hermione in shock.

“You heard me,” growled Malfoy.

Hermione tried to cover herself up, but Malfoy was suddenly on top of her pinning her arms down. “Get off of me, Malfoy!”

“No, not until you tell me why your nipple is wet. And I wouldn't do that if I were you,” said Malfoy in response to Hermione's squirming.

Hermione immediately ceased mid squirm. “I don't know.”

“Liar,” whispered Malfoy, leaning in closer in a very intimidating and sexy way.

“Oh, alright,” said Hermione, cracking. “It was in Fred's mouth.”

“What!”

“I am not repeating that for your kinky pleasure.”

“You let Fred Weasley suck on your nipple!”

“Only because you shoved it in his face!”

“Why didn't you move!”

“Because you told me not to!”

“That is your fucking excuse! Since when do you ever listen to me?”

“I didn't want to have to explain the situation to you. It was embarrassing.”

“So, you would rather let a Weasley suck on your tit than say you needed to move so that a Weasley wouldn't suck on your tit? Is that what you are telling me?”

Well, it sounded stupid when he put it like that. “Um, yes?”

“You know what I think?”

“I have no fucking clue,” said Hermione rudely.

“I think you like being in bed with the both of us. I think this is like a fantasy come true for you.”

“Get over yourself, Malfoy,” said Hermione with an evil glint in her eye. “Who says I want you in the bed?”

“Do you want me to make you say it,” whispered Malfoy huskily, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Or do you want me to make you scream it?”

Hermione's eyes widened but almost immediately closed as Malfoy plunged his tongue into her mouth and made her forget everything else including Fred Weasley lying beside her. Hermione kissed him back hungrily. All of the fucking around and no fucking was leaving her very horny. Her naked body writhed underneath his. Little Draco was rubbing against her in a most tantalizing and dangerous way. She was just about to point him in a more satisfying direction when Malfoy broke the kiss and whispered in her ear, “I knew you liked my ass.”

Hermione opened her eyes and looked at Malfoy curiously. “What are you talking about?” 

“You don't have to be embarrassed. I like you touching my ass like that.”

“I'm not touching your ass.”

“If you're not, then who... Oh shit!” yelled Malfoy, quickly rolling over until Hermione was on top.”

“Malfoy! Now, he's fondling my ass!” Ooh, that did feel good. But very wrong. Hermione tried to move away from Fred's reach.

“Don't move!” cried Malfoy.

“You actually want Fred to fondle my ass?” asked Hermione incredulously.

“No, but it's better than him fondling my ass.”

“You're using me as a human shield! That's so... Slytherin!

“Your point?”

“Malfoy, I need to move. I cannot lay naked on top of you with Fred fondling my ass like this.”

“I don't know what you're complaining about. It's not like you were that bothered when he was sucking on your tit. What's a little ass groping between friends?”

“Um, Malfoy. I think we're moving beyond ass groping. Does that make us more than friends?”

Malfoy quickly rolled Hermione over and with his free hand pushed Fred right off the bed. Fred lay on the floor snoring as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“You idiot!” hissed Hermione. “You could have woken him up!”

“You're welcome,” replied Malfoy sarcastically. “If that banshee yell didn't wake him up before, I don't think anything will. Now, where were we before we were so disturbingly disturbed.”

Hermione pushed him back to a safer distance. “We were searching for Mr. Peppy Pants.”

“That's not how I remember it,” grumbled Malfoy. “Maybe, you were searching for Mr. Peppy Pants. I was otherwise engaged. But if you really want to know, he's right there pointing up at us.”

“Not that Mr. Peppy Pants! The teddy bear, you dip shit. You said you found something in the pillow?”

“Oh, right.” Malfoy grabbed the pillow and pulled out a rumpled looking teddy bear.

Hermione threw her arms around Malfoy. “I could kiss you!”

“Don't waste your time,” said Ginny, standing next to them. “I found my last picture when you two were busy snogging.”

“Shit!” said Malfoy, not happy to lose to a Weasley.

“You found it!” gasped Hermione delighted. “Where was it?”

Ginny shifted uncomfortably. “Ugh, don't ask. I really don't want to talk about it. Who wants a drink?” asked Ginny, holding up a bottle of firewhisky.

“I do,” said Malfoy, grabbing for it immediately. Losing to a Weasley and getting fondled by one was something he definitely wanted to forget.

Ginny took the bottle back and took a long drink herself. She obviously had something she didn't mind forgetting either. “How about you, Hermione?” asked Ginny, holding out the bottle.

“No way,” said Hermione, shaking her head. “I am never drinking anything stronger than butter beer ever again.”

“Oh, Hermione,” said Ginny, already getting tipsy. “You're such a stick in the mud.” Ginny started giggling. “That sounds like something you should have said, Malfoy.”

“Fuck off,” said Malfoy, grabbing the firewhisky. “I don't care about that shit anymore.” 

“Right.” Ginny smirked. “Because you're in lurrve with one now.”

“Shut up, Ginny,” said Hermione, carefully extracting the pictures from Mr. Peppy Pants. “Oh my God! It looks like I posed for porn!”

“I know,” said Ginny, leaning over to look at the pictures. “Fred and George could have made a fortune off of those.”

“I think they're kind of artistic,” said Malfoy from over Hermione's shoulder.

“Yes,” said Hermione sarcastically. ”And they are very tasteful, I am sure. Except for the fact that they're porn!”

“At least you know you have career options,” said Malfoy with a smirk. “You don't have to get stuck in some boring ass Ministry job. Maybe McGonagall has some pamphlets you could look at. I wonder what kind of courses you take for a career in porn? You'll probably have to retake flying. I'm sure with that type of job, you'd have to know your way around a broomstick.”

Hermione ignored him, well, as much as you can ignore someone when they are handcuffed to you. “Ginny, let me see yours.”

“I think you'll like these pictures better,” said Ginny mischievously, handing them over. “Malfoy is quite photogenic.” 

“Of course, I am. Let me see,” said Malfoy, reaching out for the pictures.

Hermione, however, grabbed them faster. She immediately burst out laughing. “I was going to burn all of these, but I think I'll save this one for when I need a good laugh.”

Malfoy quickly snatched it out of her hands. It was a close-up of him when Hermione had launched the owl at his face. It was not very flattering to say the least. Malfoy immediately tore it up into little pieces. Within a matter of seconds though, the pieces reassembled themselves, and the picture was as good as new. “Shit.”

Hermione looked at the back of the picture she was holding, the one of her with the owl over her head, and let out a groan. “Printed on indestructible Picture Parchment by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Patent Pending.”

“Indestructible?” echoed Malfoy. “Fucking hell. This is what happens when dumb people are too smart.”

“Surely, it can't be totally indestructible,” said Hermione, not willing to admit defeat. “Incendio!”

“It sure looks indestructible,” grumbled Malfoy as he watched the flames fizzle out.

Not giving up, Hermione tried everything she could think of including vanishing, banishing, slicing, dicing, cutting, shredding, drowning, setting fire to, exploding, transfiguring and even disillusioning. Nothing worked. 

“Try a Cleansing Charm,” said Malfoy.

“What's a Cleansing Charm going to do?”

“Uh, clean it,” said Malfoy sarcastically. “Are you sure you're the smartest witch of our age?”

“I mean why. Why the fuck would I do a Cleansing Charm?”

“Because it's gross.”

He had a point. Fred had obviously had a lot of fun with that particular picture. Hermione cast a Cleansing Charm and oddly enough that was the one spell that actually worked. “Great. Now, I have a clean dirty picture of myself.”

“Correction. Now I have a clean dirty picture of you,” said Malfoy, snatching it away.

“Give it back!” yelled Hermione, pouncing on Malfoy.

“No,” grunted Malfoy, trying to get out from underneath her.

“If you don't give me that picture back, I'll...”

“You'll do what?” asked Malfoy, trying to buck her off. “Accidentally have sex with me?”

“No. I'll... I'll tickle you until you surrender. You'll be begging for mercy.”

“Malfoys are not ticklish. And they do not beg.”

“We'll see about that,” said Hermione, lowering her wand. She could have used her wand, but she didn't. The Muggle way was so much more fun. Reaching out, she tickled his sides, and he immediately started squirming. She intensified and expanded her tickling efforts, and Malfoy started laughing, genuinely laughing. It wasn't an evil laugh or mean spirited in any way. And he wasn't laughing at anyone's expense. He was just laughing. It was nice. Really nice. And it made Hermione smile. It also made her let down her defenses, and that was a mistake. Malfoy took full advantage and soon she was the one begging for mercy. “Stop! Stop!” Hermione laughed.

“Tell me I can keep the picture, and I'll stop.”

“No way...Ahhh! Okay, you can keep the picture.”

Malfoy stopped. “I can?”

“Yes. Until I get it away from you.”

“Fair enough,” said Malfoy, running across the room, dragging Hermione behind him.

“What are you doing!” shrieked Hermione.

“Hiding my picture,” said Malfoy as he stuffed it in his bag along with the unflattering picture of himself.

“You think I won't go through your bag?”

“Oh, I think you'll go through it. You just won't find anything.”

“Says you.”

“Go ahead. Take a look,” said Malfoy, shoving the bag at her.

Hermione looked in the bag. Of course, ruthlessly rooted might be a more apt description. It was completely empty. “Where did it go? There's nothing in there.”

“Correction, there is nothing in there that belongs to you.”

Hermione stamped her foot angrily. “I hate you, Malfoy. Why do you even want that picture?”

“Who wouldn't want that picture? It's pure gold. If the Malfoy fortune ends up disappearing by the time this war is over, I have to have a back up plan. I can't live like a pauper. Or a Weasley.”

“You're going to sell it!”

“Of course, what else would I do with it?”

“Wack off to it, like Fred did,” said Ginny, giving Malfoy a wink.

“Shut up, Weaselette. Nobody asked you.”

“Of course not,” said Ginny, “because who wants to hear the truth? Certainly not you two.”

“I'd like to know the truth,” said Hermione, smiling evilly at Ginny.”In fact, I'd love to know where you found that last picture.”

Ginny paled slightly and mumbled something unintelligible.

“What's that? I didn't quite catch that.” Hermione smirked.

“If you must know, I found it in George's pajama pants,” huffed Ginny.

“You went in George's pajama pants? For a bet?”

“Yes, well, I won, didn't I?”

“That's disgusting!”

“Tell me about it. I think he liked it.”

“Ginny! I can't believe you just said that in front of Malfoy.”

“I'm so busy ignoring him all of the time that sometimes I forget about him. What can I say? It's a gift.” Ginny turned on Malfoy menacingly with her wand. “Tell anyone and you will have Bat Bogeys flying out of your ass for all eternity.”

“Like I'm going to admit to anyone that I know the bizarre sexual habits of a Weasley,” Malfoy sneered.

“It wasn't sexual,” mumbled Ginny. “On my part anyway.”

“Whatever. You don't have to explain yourself to me,” said Malfoy, smiling insincerely. “Your home is called the Burrow.”

“Malfoy, do you really want me to kick your ass again?” asked Ginny angrily.

“What's the problem?” asked Malfoy, feigning innocence. “I said, I wouldn't tell, didn't I?”

“Good,” sneered Ginny. “Then I won't tell anyone about Fred feeling up your ass and you enjoying it.”

“I didn't enjoy it!” exclaimed Malfoy.

“Alright, you two can stop getting along now for my sake,” said Hermione dryly. “Mission accomplished. I'm going back to bed.”

“I suppose that is a written invitation,” said Malfoy, waving about the handcuffs.

“Whatever, Malfoy. I'm tired. I don't care where you sleep. Just don't touch me.”

“Well, I'll need the bigger half of the bed then because I like to stretch out.”

“Yes, I remember,” replied Hermione, rolling her eyes.

“Wait,” said Ginny. “You guys can't go to bed yet. Don't you want to have a little fun?”

“I thought you weren't into a threesome unless it involved the Boy Wonder,” said Malfoy skeptically.

“I'm not talking about a threesome, you idiot,” scoffed Ginny. “I was talking about messing with Fred and George.”

“You're right. With Potter, that makes it a foursome. You really are the smart Weasley.”

“Hermione, give me one reason why I don't kill him now.”

“Um, well, he... No. How about... Oh, I don't know. I've got nothing.”

“What about true love? Isn't that a good reason?” asked Ginny, smirking.

“I don't believe in it,” replied Hermione matter of factly. “And Malfoy will probably only ever experience it with his mirror. Or maybe his hand.”

“Oh, Hermione,” said Ginny. “You don't mean that. Just because your true love is a Slytherin idiot with a pink dick, doesn't mean you have to give up on it altogether. There are spells that could make him tolerable. Personally, I would start off with a Silencio.”

“Fuck off, Weaselette. I'm going to bed,” said Malfoy, tugging on the handcuffs and Hermione.

“Wait! Alright, I'll be... nice,” said Ginny, choking on the words. 

“You must have something really good planned if you're willing to be nice to Malfoy.”

“Oh, I do,” said Ginny excitedly. “Wait here.” Ginny quietly crept out of the room and a few minutes later returned carrying an overstuffed pink bag.

“Uh, I don't know about this,” said Hermione fearfully.

“What's that?” asked Malfoy suspiciously.

“A makeup bag,” said Hermione with a sigh.

“What's a sleepover without makeovers!” squealed Ginny.

“No way,” said Malfoy. “That's girl stuff. I'm not doing any makeovers.”

“Even if the makeovers are for Fred and George?” asked Ginny, smiling evilly.

The corners of Malfoy's mouth started to curl up evilly just like Ginny's. “What have you got in there?” he asked, dragging Hermione with him to check it out. Malfoy was suddenly very interested in girl stuff as he rooted around in Ginny's bag.

“Everything,” said Ginny. “They will look like new men tomorrow morning. Or maybe like new women. Who knows?”

“Ooh, what's this?” asked Malfoy, holding up a purple bottle.”

“Breast Enhancing Potion. George always said he was a boob man.” Ginny snickered, grabbing it.

“This is a bad idea,” said Hermione, pulling on Malfoy. “Let's just go to bed.”

“No,” whined Malfoy. “I want to do makeovers.”

“Trust me,” replied Hermione. “We do not want to start a war with the Weasley twins.”

“They started it,” said Ginny. “We're just going to finish it.”

“I don't know,” hedged Hermione. 

“What about the pictures?”

“And the strip tease,” added Malfoy.

“The truths.”

“The dares.”

“You snogging my boyfriend,” said Ginny bitterly.

“You snogging everyone,” said Malfoy.

“You snogging my boyfriend,” said Ginny again.

“The blow job,” whispered Malfoy in her ear.

“Alright, alright!” exclaimed Hermione, admitting defeat. “You two sure are buddy buddy now that you've swapped spit.”

“Never mention that again,” said Ginny, glaring at Malfoy.

“You were the one who kissed me, Weaselette!” Malfoy accused.

“I didn't know I was kissing a ferret!”

“Well, I sure the hell knew I was being kissed by a bitch.”

“There, that's better,” said Hermione. “It was kind of scary when you two were getting along.”

Ginny pulled some items out of the makeup bag and then handed the rest over to Hermione. “You two take care of Fred. I'll do George.”

“Going to finish what you started then?” Malfoy smirked.

“No.” Ginny scowled and then she smirked. “What about you, Malfoy? Are you going to finish what you started?”

It was Malfoy's turn to scowl. Instead of replying, he turned his back (and very nice ass) on Ginny and dragged Hermione over toward Fred.

“Malfoy,” began Hermione.

“I don't want to talk about it,” he nearly growled.

“Well, I don't want to talk about it either,” snapped Hermione.

“Why not?” asked Malfoy.

“Are you serious?” asked Hermione. “I thought you didn't want to talk about it.”

“I don't.” 

“Then stop asking me questions about it!”

“It's just that... most girls would want to talk about it.”

“I am not most girls.”

“No, you're not,” said Malfoy quietly.

Hermione couldn't help staring at him. “Was that a compliment?”

“No, said Malfoy, recovering quickly. “I just meant that most girls would actually know what to do with this,” he said, grabbing the makeup bag away from her hands.

“Do you have to work at being an asshole, or does it just come naturally?

“A bit of both actually,” replied Malfoy with a smirk. “There's nothing wrong with perfecting one's skills.”

“Well, it's good to know you're hard work is paying off for you,” said Hermione sarcastically, kneeling down by Fred. “Come on. Let's get this over with.”

“Alright, how about a little eye shadow to start off. Let's see. What color should we use?” pondered Malfoy.

“Well, he has blue eyes. How about blue?” suggested Hermione.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “That just proves you don't know anything about makeup. You're not supposed to match the color of the eyes; you're supposed to compliment them. For blue eyes, you should go with a brown or golden eye shadow. Besides, only whores wear blue eye shadow.”

“Malfoy, are you even listening to yourself? We're supposed to be getting revenge on Fred, not entering him in a God damn beauty contest.”

“Yeah, you're right. We should go with the blue. He is a male whore after all.”

“Whatever. I don't care. Just find some lipstick, and we're done.”

“Here's some. The label says it's Mood Lip Stick.”

“Ooh, that's good stuff,” said Ginny from across the room. “It changes color depending on your mood, and it's really long lasting, so it won't come off for days. Let me borrow it when you're done.”

Malfoy roughly smeared it on Fred's lips. “Perfect.”

“You didn't even stay in the lines,” criticized Hermione.

“I thought we weren't entering him in a beauty contest,” said Malfoy sarcastically. He was about to throw the lipstick over to Ginny when he got an idea. “Just one more finishing touch.” With extremely neat penmanship, he wrote an “L” in the middle of Fred's forehead.

“Was that really necessary?” asked Hermione.

Carelessly tossing the lipstick to Ginny, he said rather smugly, “Yes, it was, and he'll know exactly what it means.”

“Alright, are we finished now?”

“No way. There's a ton more stuff in here.”

“What else could you possibly smear on your face?” asked Hermione exasperatedly.

“Mascara, eyeliner, powder, rouge...”

“Just get on with it already,” said Hermione impatiently.

Malfoy gave Fred some rosy cheeks and raccoon eyes. “Not too bad,” said Malfoy, leaning back and admiring his work.

“You missed a spot,” said Hermione, grabbing the black eyeliner from him. She carefully drew a triangle on Fred's nose and cat's whiskers on his cheeks. 

Malfoy raised his eyebrows at her. “I thought you weren't interested in waging a war with the Weasley twins.”

“Well,” began Hermione defensively. “If I am going to suffer the consequences anyway, I may as well have a little fun. What else is in there?” Hermione rooted around in the makeup bag and found another tube of mascara. “Ooh, this one says it changes color.” Hermione applied the mascara and Fred's eyelashes started flashing different colors.

“Here's something,” said Malfoy, pulling out an unlabeled bottle. He opened it up and took sniff, wrinkling up his nose. “This is disgusting. Smell it.”

“No,” said Hermione, slapping his hand away.

“Let's see what it does,” said Malfoy, dumping the contents into Fred's open mouth.

“Malfoy!” hissed Hermione. “That could be poisonous! You may have just killed him!”

Malfoy stared at Fred for a while and then sighed. “No such luck.”

“I wonder what it does,” said Hermione, looking at Fred thoughtfully.

“Hell, if I know. Nothing too good if we can't even tell. Here, smear some of this body glitter on him,” said Malfoy, not looking up from his search of the makeup bag.

“Okay,” said Hermione, taking the jar. She dabbed her finger in and smeared some on his face and then leaned in to rub some in his hair. Unconsciously, she took in a deep breath and then couldn't help noticing how attractive Fred looked. Scooping out a big handful of body glitter, she started methodically rubbing it into his chest. He was so strong and muscular. Hermione moved to his rock hard abs. She just couldn't stop touching him. She was about to give Mr. Peppy Pants a sparkly new makeover when she heard a throat clearing next to her. Still rubbing circles on Fred's stomach, she said, “Hmmmm.”

“What do you think you're doing?” asked Malfoy angrily.

“I'm rubbing body glitter on Fred, just like you said.”

“Well, I think that's good enough,” huffed Malfoy.

“But there's still a lot of spots I haven't gotten to yet. Doesn't he look beautiful with his skin sparkling like that? And he smells so good,” said Hermione, leaning in and taking a deep breath. “Smell him.”

“Um, no thanks,” said Malfoy, looking slightly ill. While Hermione continued to sniff Fred, Malfoy called over to Ginny.”Hey! What kind of potion was in that unmarked blue bottle?”

“Oh, it's a Pheromone Potion,” replied Ginny. “It makes you irresistible to the opposite sex.”

“Great,” muttered Malfoy. “Hey, Granger. Let's go. It's time for bed.”

“Why don't we just sleep here with Fred,” said Hermione about ready to lay her head on Fred's chest.

“No. I think you need some fresh air,” said Malfoy, pulling her up.

“But Fred smells so good,” whined Hermione, trying to pull away from him.

Malfoy wanted to just throw her over his shoulder, but he couldn't pick her up very easily while they were still handcuffed together. “Weaselette, a little help here.”

“What's the problem, ferret boy?” asked Ginny, coming over. However, when she saw Hermione clinging to Fred and Malfoy trying desperately to keep his hand from touching any Weasley parts, Ginny had a pretty good idea of what had happened and couldn't help laughing. “How much did you give him?”

“The whole bottle,” muttered Malfoy.

Ginny laughed even harder. “You are such an idiot. You're only supposed to use a drop. That potion is going to be even stronger in a few hours. Breakfast is going to be even more interesting than I thought it was going to be. Good luck keeping Hermione from jumping Fred and humping him right there on the table.”

“We're not going to breakfast. We're sleeping in.”

“Oh, I don't think so. You both lost a bet to me, and you will pay up or suffer the consequences, and believe me, you do not want to suffer the consequences. Just don't let her get too close to him. As long as she doesn't smell him, she won't be affected.”

“Why aren't you affected?”

“Because I'm his sister, dumb shit. It does kind of make me feel more sisterly affection toward him though. He's going to be able to get away with loads of crap with Mum tomorrow.”

“Help me peel her off him.” Together they were able to pry Hermione away from Fred and get her a safe distance away.

“Why the fuck would you have a Pheromone Potion!” Hermione yelled at Ginny, the moment she came to her senses.

“I only used it when I was trying to make Harry jealous. I forgot all about it,” replied Ginny offhandedly. “Malfoy's the one that gave it to him.”

Hermione turned angrily on Malfoy. “You are an idiot,” said Hermione, poking him hard in the chest. “Do you realize how awful breakfast is going to be for me? It was going to be horrible enough before you fucked everything up. Before, I just had to say lewd, terrible things. Now, I'll probably actually be doing them as well.”

“It's not like it's going to be fun for me either,” grumbled Malfoy.

“You better do everything in your power to keep me from fucking Fred on top of my plate of pancakes, or you are going to regret it.”

“In more ways than one,” said Ginny, smirking.

“I'm not going to let you fuck a Weasley or anybody else, okay?” mumbled Malfoy. “Let's just go to bed.”

Hermione was pretty sure he meant it, so with a sigh she said, “Alright.”

“You sure are easy,” cracked Ginny.”He didn't even need a cheesy pick up line to get you to bed.”

“Shut up,” Hermione and Malfoy both said at the same time and then they smiled at one another.

“You two sure are buddy buddy now that you've swapped spit. And other bodily fluids.” Hit with identical glares, Ginny added huffily, “I'm just saying.”

“Well, don't,” replied Hermione. “Are you finished with George?”

“Yes,” said Ginny, smiling evilly. “Just wait until you see him tomorrow. You won't even recognize him.”

Mission completed, the naked trio left the twins' room and headed for Ginny's to get in a few more hours of sleep before breakfast. Unfortunately, before they could get there, they ran smack into Harry Potter.

“Hermione!” gasped Harry. “You're naked! 

“Harry, I can explain...” began Hermione.

Despite his eyes being glued to Hermione, Harry somehow managed to notice Malfoy as well. “Malfoy! What are you doing here? Naked!”

“You're one to talk. At least I'm not wearing women's knickers, Potter,” drawled Malfoy, looking Harry up and down distastefully.

“Hermione,” said Harry, trying to control his temper but failing miserably. “Why are you and Malfoy naked? Together!”

“I'm naked too,” grumbled Ginny. After getting no response whatsoever from Harry, she angrily stomped off into her room and slammed the door behind her.

“Harry,” said Hermione, covering up her breasts with her hands and giving Malfoy a shove for trying to feel her up. “I have a very long, complicated answer for you but now is not the time to discuss it. I'll probably be a little busy at breakfast, but I promise I will tell you everything as soon as that miserable meal is over with.”

“What's all the commotion?” asked Ron, stumbling into the hallway, rubbing his eyes.

“We were just going to bed,” said Hermione, quickly pushing Malfoy into Ginny's room. “Goodnight, Ron.”

“Goodnight,” said Ron, waving and smiling goofily. “Bloody Hell.”

“I know,” said Harry. “I can't believe Malfoy's here.”

“Malfoy's here!” exclaimed Ron.

“Didn't you see him?”

“Dude, Hermione was naked. Why would I be looking for that ferret?”

“Maybe because he was handcuffed to her. Naked!”

“They were naked? Together!”

“Yes, and you know what I think?” said Harry. “I think the Viktor Krum that Hermione brought as her date to the wedding was really Malfoy all along.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Bloody hell is right. Hermione has a lot of explaining to do.”

“Yeah,” agreed Ron. “I didn't know she was into bondage.”


	45. Dirty Detour

“Oh my God,” shrieked Hermione, shaking Malfoy awake. “We had sex, and I don't even remember it. You were completely unmemorable!”

“We did not have sex,” grumbled Malfoy, turning away from her and pulling the covers over his head. “If we did, you would have remembered it. I would have remembered it.”

“Then how do you explain this?” asked Hermione, pulling back the covers from his head and dangling the now opened handcuffs in front of his face.

“Magic?”

“You did something to me in your sleep,” accused Hermione.

“How do you know it was me? Maybe you did something to me,” said Malfoy calmly, rolling on his back to look at her.

“Whatever, the point is, we obviously did 'something' in our sleep.”

“So, you're admitting you did something to me?” Malfoy smirked.

“No!”

“Really? Because it seems like you were admitting something.”

“I'm not admitting anything!” yelled Hermione, starting to get angry. “I don't remember anything to admit to!”

“Well, if you don't remember, then how do you know 'you' didn't do something?”

“Oh God,” moaned Hermione dejectedly, flouncing back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. “You're right. I don't know. For all I know, I could have given you another frigging blow job. Maybe instead of a sleep walker, I'm a sleep sucker.”

“No, I would have definitely remembered that,” said Malfoy, turning over on his side and smiling at her.

“Why aren't you upset about this?” asked Hermione suspiciously. He should be freaking out like, well, her.

Malfoy shrugged. “We've already done lots of stuff. It doesn't seem like such a big deal now.”

“You don't think having sex is a big deal? I could be pregnant with some pompous Malfoy prat right now. I sure as hell didn't do a Contraceptive Charm, and everyone knows the guy never thinks to do it.”

“Now, to be fair, I don't have a wand, so you can't really blame me for not casting a Contraceptive Charm.”

“Fine!” snapped Hermione. “It's my fault I didn't cast a frigging charm. Are you happy?”

“Well, I'm just saying...”

“What exactly are you saying, Malfoy? That as long as I am willing to take all of the blame, my being pregnant is no big deal. That as long as it's all my fault, you are ready to be a father!”

“Hell no!” exclaimed Malfoy quickly. “I'm just saying if we did have sex, which we didn't, I couldn't have cast a charm if I wanted to, which I most definitely would have because I am most definitely not ready to be a father, especially not to any baby of yours.” 

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” asked Hermione angrily.”You don't think I'm good enough to have your baby?”

“I thought you didn't want to have a 'pompous Malfoy prat',” said Malfoy pointedly.

“I don't!”

“Then what are you getting so angry about?” asked Malfoy exasperatedly.

“I don't like all of your pureblood bullshit; that's what!”

“Well, it's not so much the blood as it is the hair,” said Malfoy as though he weren't digging himself a hole. “And the bitchiness. I could do without the bitchiness. Any baby of yours would surely be difficult and high maintenance. And most importantly, the whole House thing is non-negotiable. I'm not going to be a father to a Gryffindor!”

“Then the baby will be a Granger, not a Malfoy, and I will raise it by myself!”

“You'll do no such thing. We'll raise our baby together as a Malfoy. After we are married!”

“I'm not marrying you!”

“Yes, you are. No baby of mine is going to be a bastard!”

Hermione gasped. “I can't believe you just called our baby a bastard!”

“I didn't call our baby a bastard because our baby won't be a bastard because we are getting married!”

“Are you proposing to me?” asked Hermione in shock.

“Hell no. Have you even been listening to me? We did not have sex!”

“Then why are we having a baby together!”

“We're not! This is all hypothetical because, let me reiterate, we did not have sex!”

“You can't know that we didn't have sex, Malfoy,” insisted Hermione, calming down slightly.

“I do know.” 

“Prove it.”

Malfoy gave her a predatory smile. “Would you like me to prove it to you?” 

“No?” answered Hermione somewhat uncertainly, her eyes widening slightly.

“Are you sure about that?” asked Malfoy, leaning in to kiss her neck.

“Yes,” breathed out Hermione.

“Yes, you're sure. Or, yes, you want me to prove it to you?” asked Malfoy, trailing kisses down her shoulder to her right breast. The left one was contaminated with Weasley germs after all.

“Oh,” moaned Hermione, arching her back. “I don't know. Whatever you think,” she gasped. It was too hard to think when he was doing that to her. Or maybe, she didn't want to think for once.

“Well, I think you should cast that Contraceptive Charm now,” said Malfoy, smirking at her. Who said Malfoys weren't responsible?

Hermione glared at him but grudgingly muttered the Contraceptive Charm under her breath just in case. “Hurry up and kiss me, so I don't have to look at that stupid smirk of yours anymore.”

That made Malfoy smirk even more. “You know you think it's sexy,” he said, right before he kissed her. 

Hermione couldn't see his smirk anymore, but she certainly could feel it with every one of his kisses. Merlin, it really was sexy. And it totally turned her on. The smirk alone almost gave her an orgasm. He moved his body on top of hers, and she was very glad indeed that she had swallowed her pride and cast that Contraceptive Charm after all. She could feel his naked body against hers, and it felt so good. They had been so close so many times, it would be cruel not to finish what they had started. Nothing but divine intervention would stop them now. Well, that or a really big bitch.

“Would you two knock it off,” interrupted Ginny, quite disruptively. “You need to go get ready for the big show; I mean breakfast.” 

“Fuck off, Wesealette. We're busy,” said Malfoy, barely coming up for air.

“So I see. I'll try to forget about your fucking poor ass attitude and be the bigger person, as you are more than likely not thinking properly at the moment. Although, I must say, you do make it very difficult. However, who am I to stand in the way of love?” Ginny sighed dramatically. “You have twenty minutes till show time. If you hurry, maybe you can get in a quickie in the shower. You can't say I'm not a romantic.”

“Romantic, my ass,” muttered Malfoy into Hermione's neck.

“Nineteen minutes.” 

“Fuck!”

“Oh, yes!” responded Hermione, throwing herself into the kiss and forgetting all about Ginny.

So, a romantic trip to the bathroom it was. Not breaking the kiss, Malfoy scooped Hermione up in his arms and ran to the door, accidentally banging Hermione's head on the door jam in his hurry.

“Malfoy, slow down. You're going too fast.”

Malfoy stopped in the doorway and set Hermione down, letting her slip through his fingers. “I thought you wanted this,” said Malfoy, unable to hide his disappointment.

“I meant slow down and quit fucking running me into things.”

Oh,” said Malfoy, his smile returning. “I thought you liked it rough.”

“No, you like it rough. You want me to bang your head in the doorway?”

“Let's save the banging for the shower,” said Malfoy, picking her up so her legs straddled around his waist as he quickly headed toward the bathroom.

“Malfoy! We're naked.”

“I know. Convenient, isn't it?”

“We can't go in the hallway like this! Someone might see us.”

“Stop worrying. It's completely deserted out here,” said Malfoy just as Fleur's parents stepped out of their room.

Fleur's parents started speaking in rapid French, but Malfoy ignored them and kept walking at a fast pace. He was on a tight schedule after all.

“Oh God,” said Hermione, completely mortified and hiding her head in Malfoy's shoulder. “I wonder what they are saying.”

“Something about an orgy house. I really only know a little bit of French, and what I do know is pretty much all dirty.”

“Figures,” said Hermione dryly.

Malfoy quietly slipped into the bathroom. The shower was already running, and it was getting nice and steamy, not unlike Malfoy and Hermione, who were already kissing and groping again. Malfoy locked the door behind him and immediately stepped into the shower with Hermione still wrapped around him. The hot water cascaded all over their bodies.

“I've been waiting to do this since the first time I watched you taking a shower,” murmured Malfoy, nibbling on her earlobe.

“Pervert,” breathed out Hermione, pulling him in for another kiss.

Malfoy's hands slid their way down her body, lingering on her ass before traveling to other private places he longed to touch. He rhythmically stroked her causing her to moan with desire. Malfoy whispered in her ear, ”Merlin, you are so wet.”

“So are you. We're in the fucking shower,” replied Hermione annoyed. Why did guys, even the competent ones, always have to say stupid things like that. It completely ruined the moment. Well, maybe not completely.

“You want me,” said Malfoy sexily.

“I don't want... you,” choked out Hermione.

“Then tell me what you want,” said Malfoy, pressing her up against the shower wall.”

“I want you to stop talking,” said Hermione, grabbing onto little Draco none to gently. The diadem was making the sexual tension almost painful to experience. She needed a release. And soon. He had too much control for someone who was on the clock.

“Then talk dirty to me,” responded Malfoy, touching her teasingly.

“No,” Hermione practically growled.

“Why not? Chicken?” taunted Malfoy.

“No. I'm saving it for breakfast,” grumbled Hermione.

“I don't want to wait for breakfast,” whined Malfoy. “Can't you say a few things now while we're alone? I'll make it worth your while.”

Hermione was about to give in and say the dirtiest thing she could think of just so he would fuck her already, but then she distinctly heard a rustling sound and froze. Hermione and Malfoy both looked at each other and then out into the bathroom, where they were quite shocked to see a naked Percy Weasley sitting on the toilet reading the Daily Prophet. What the fuck! Malfoy didn't know whether he should cover up Hermione or himself. He wasn't quite sure about Percy Weasley.

“Percy!” cried Hermione, immediately pulling Malfoy in front of her. “What do you think you are doing in here!”

“The question is,” retorted Percy pertly, “what are you two doing in here?”

Malfoy snorted. And he's the smart Weasley. “I think that's rather obvious, dip shit. Now, get the fuck out.”

“No,” replied Percy adamantly. “I was here first. I was minding my own business having my daily bowel movement and catching up on the day's events while the shower heated up to just the right temperature, just like I do every morning, when you two barged in. Did you really think someone turned on the shower to just the right temperature just for you? So you could do 'that'!”

“Why didn't you say anything!” exclaimed Hermione.

“I was in the middle of an interesting article,” replied Percy somewhat uncomfortably.

“Interesting article, my ass,” retorted Malfoy. “You like to watch just like your weasel brother.”

“I didn't ask you to start fornicating in front of me,” huffed Percy. “I was here first. Now, if you would kindly leave so I can take my shower before all of the hot water runs out.”

“Ten minutes, Malfoy!” yelled Ginny through the door.

“You heard the bitch.” Malfoy smirked at Percy. “I still have ten minutes.” Malfoy closed the shower curtain on him and turned to Hermione. “Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?”

Hermione pushed Malfoy off of her. “I'm not doing anything with Percy out there!”

“Why not? The curtain is closed now. He can't see much.”

“I don't care. It's weird. I'm not doing anything with him out there.”

“What if I do all the work this time?” said Malfoy very persuasively, kissing her neck and driving her wild.

“I don't know,” said Hermione hesitantly, starting to cave. “We don't have much time, and we haven't even showered yet.”

“How about you take care of the cleaning part, and I take care of the dirty part?” said Malfoy suggestively, getting down on his knees.”

“Malfoy, I don't think... Oh! Oh-kay,” Hemione moaned as soon as he started kissing her. There. Reaching for the shampoo bottle, Hermione hardly knew what she was doing as she started pouring shampoo on Malfoy's head.

“I think I'm good,” said Malfoy after a while. Hermione looked down to see that she had poured half the bottle on his head.

“Well, you do have pink hair,” muttered Hermione, slightly embarrassed about being caught so distracted.

Malfoy replied by nipping her inner thigh. She yelped and started massaging in the shampoo. Malfoy sighed and said, “Now, that's more like it.”

Hermione took some of the shampoo from Malfoy's head and hurriedly scrubbed her own hair. She grabbed her shower gel and started soaping up her body as Malfoy performed his magic on her. She was so close. Almost there. Almost... “Malfoy, don't stop!”

“Sorry, I got distracted,” said Malfoy, watching Hermione spreading the shower gel over her breasts in a circular motion.

“Fine,” snapped Hermione. “I'll do you instead. Just hurry. We're running out of time.”

“I always knew you would be bossy in the bedroom, er, bathroom,” said Malfoy, getting back to business.

Hermione, almost dizzy with the thought of relief being so close at hand, or mouth rather, carelessly squirted shower gel all over Malfoy and began rubbing. She rubbed his back and leaned even farther over to reach his ass. Fuck. He really did have a nice ass. She couldn't help herself. She squeezed. And just as she did, she climaxed. Not being able to control her reflexes, she felt her nails cutting into Malfoy's flesh. Oops! That was definitely going to leave a mark.

“Fuck, Granger. That better not leave a scar,” said Malfoy, looking over his shoulder to check out the damage.

“Don't be such a baby,” said Hermione breathlessly, pulling him to his feet. “You'd look a lot tougher with a scar. Not like such a pansy ass.”

“Thanks for your concern, but I don't think I'll be dropping my pants the next time I'm in a fight just to show off my tough scar. Unless I'm fighting you of course,” said Malfoy, pulling her in for a kiss.

She could taste herself on his tongue, but she didn't care. He was so much less annoying when he was kissing her. Her hand trailed down to little Draco, who was surprisingly not standing at attention for her. Pulling out of the kiss, she looked at Malfoy questioningly.

Malfoy shrugged. “I took care of myself at the same time. I don't have the reputation of being a selfish bastard for nothing.”

Hermione was about to make a sarcastic reply when the shower curtain was flung open.

“Time's up,” said Percy, standing stark naked in front of them.

“Oh,” exclaimed Hermione, getting an eye full. “We were just, um, finished.

“So, I gathered. I am exactly fifteen minutes late for my shower now. So, unless you would like me to join you, I would appreciate it if you would leave.”

Despite the fact that she hadn't rinsed as thoroughly as she would have liked, Hermione quickly grabbed her towel and stepped out of the shower. Malfoy was somehow out even quicker.

“Sorry, Percy,” mumbled Hermione embarrassed. “There's still a little hot water left. I think.” Percy responded by closing the shower curtain in her face.

Hermione hurriedly went to the sink and grabbed her toothbrush. “You'd better brush your teeth as well, I don't want people smelling me on your breath.”

“In our hurry, I forgot my toothbrush. I'll be sure to say 'hiiiiiii' to Weasel though.”

Hermione glared at him and handed him a toothbrush with a red bow on it. “Brush.”

“You'll probably need this,” read Malfoy, “for your dirty mouth. I hope you don't end up getting it dirty again at breakfast. Without any sincerity at all, Ginny, a.k.a. Weaselette.” Without comment, Malfoy angrily brushed his teeth.

“You can't say the bitch isn't thoughtful,” said Hermione sarcastically.

“We'd better go,” said Malfoy, throwing his toothbrush down on the sink. “We're already late. No telling what that crazy bitch is going to do. There's probably some kind of penalty for tardiness.”

“I can't go to breakfast in just a towel,” said Hermione scandalized.

“I don't see why not. Just about everyone here has seen you naked. If you wear a towel, you'll at least look like you made an effort.”

“Everyone has not seen me naked,” she huffed. 

“All of your friends have. And now you can add creepy Percy Weasley and that French bitch's parents to the list,” said Malfoy, scooping some bubbles off of her shoulder.

“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley haven't. And Remus hasn't... Or Charlie.”

“Charlie. Why does that name sound familiar?”

“I don't know,” said Hermione uncomfortably. “He's the Weasley that lives in Romania and works with dragons.”

“He's the one you want to fuck, isn't he?”

“I only said that because I was drunk.”

“Drunk on Veritaserum.”

“I'm really not in the mood, Malfoy.”

“Not anymore anyway.” 

“I was insane from lust before because of this stupid diadem. I'm over it now.”

“Apparently.”

“Look, here's Fred and George's bathrobes. Let's just put them on and get downstairs. Ginny can be scary when she's mad and vengeful.”

“Fine, but I get the green one.”

“Whatever. I'll take the blue one. It will compliment my eyes,” said Hermione sarcastically.

“Or make you look like a whore.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“I'm just saying.”

“Well don't, unless you really want me to hex the crap out of you.”

“Now, is that anyway to treat the father of your pretend baby?”

“You know, Malfoy, one of these days, someone is going to wipe that stupid smirk off your face permanently. And I hope I'm there to see it happen.”

“Well, you can hope all you want, but somethings are hopeless just like your friend Weasel,” said Malfoy snidely, opening the door and immediately getting punched in the face.


	46. Bad Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should warn you. This chapter is completely vulgar and inappropriate. It's all Ginny's fault. Hope you enjoy breakfast!

“Ron!” exclaimed Hermione angrily.

“What? He had it coming,” Ron responded defensively. Harry nodded his head in agreement.

“For opening a door!” scoffed Hermione.

“For being a git. For calling you a Mudblood. For killing Dumbledore. For frigging shagging you!” yelled Ron.

“Look, Ron,” began Hermione in an attempt to calm him down. “I don't have time to explain everything now, but I swear I will right after breakfast. Malfoy has changed though, and I need you to give him a break.”

Ron smirked at her. “Hopefully, I broke his nose. Does that count?”

“No,” replied Hermione, scowling. “That's not what I meant, and you know it. Malfoy didn't really kill Dumbledore, and he doesn't believe in all that purity nonsense anymore if he ever really did. He's not the same Malfoy you remember from school.”

“Well, he's still a git, isn't he?”

“Yeah, he kind of is,” admitted Hermione, trying not to smile about it.

“So, you're admitting that he shagged you?” accused Ron.

“I didn't say that!”

“You didn't not say that,” pointed out Ron.

“That's true, you didn't,” Harry agreed. “And we saw you. You were naked with him last night.”

“For your information, Harry, Ginny was there too. Naked! And I can tell you that she's not very pleased you didn't notice. And the only reason we were all naked was because we had some unfortunate business to take care of in the twins' room, and their whole bedroom was riddled with booby traps.”

“Booby,” said Ron with a goofy smile plastered on his face until he caught sight of Hermione's glare. Clearing his throat, he continued stubbornly, “Well, what about the handcuffs, or should I say Bondage Bracelets?”

“That... was an accident,” said Hermione uncomfortably.

“Is that so?” said Ron sarcastically. “And how exactly did you get them off?”

“Excuse me?” replied Hermione, hedging for time. Why did Ron have to choose now of all times to stop being oblivious? Most inconvenient.

“How did you get them off?” He pressed.

“Why does that matter?” bristled Hermione. Where was clueless Ron when you really needed him?

“Because I happen to know how they come off,” said Ron, getting angry.

“And how would you know that?” asked Hermione, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“I do happen to know some things,” huffed Ron. “I'm not completely stupid you know.”

“Well, isn't it interesting that the things you do know seem to revolve around bondage!”

Turning red in the face, Ron exclaimed, “Well, if I would have known you would find it so 'interesting', maybe you would have found out about it a long time ago!”

“Is that what you were doing whenever you disappeared with Lavender? You were... bonding!” spat Hermione angrily.

“Leave Lavender out of this.”

“Oh, well, maybe it was Professor Trelawney then. She always had lots of scarves lying around her classroom that I bet were great for all kinds of perverted purposes!”

“This isn't about me, Hermione. It's about you and this git,” said Ron, pointing down at Malfoy, who was still lying on the floor with his hand over his face, moaning obnoxiously. ”You shagged the enemy! I would have preferred it if it had been 'You Know Who'.”

“Voldemort,” interjected Harry.

“Whatever,” snapped Ron. “At least with, with...”

“Voldemort,” supplied Harry helpfully.

“Yeah, him. At least if you were shagging him we would know it was because you were busy trying to save the world,” finished Ron sarcastically.

“You don't know that shagging Voldemort wouldn't save the world, Ronald Weasley,” said Hermione obstinately, her face heating up.

“Whatever! The point is, there is no reason for you to be shagging this git unless... Oh Merlin, Hermione. You don't actually like him, do you?” asked Ron in disgust, slapping his hand against his forehead.

“I didn't 'shag' him,” said Hermione defensively, gesturing dismissively to Malfoy. Well, she hadn't technically. “And how could you of all people think I could ever like him? What is there to like?” She was pretty sure Ron wouldn't be able to come up with a single likeable thing about Malfoy. She wasn't so sure about herself. He did have an awfully nice ass.

Ron looked at Hermione shrewdly as though he knew she was trying to trick him. “There is nothing to like about that ferret, but we just saw you come out of the bathroom with him, only wearing Fred and George's bathrobes. And it sure looked awfully steamy in there from here!”

“We were brushing our teeth!” That was totally true. “And Percy is in there. It was so steamy because he was running the water to get it to just the right temperature for 'his' shower. Do you really think we would do that kind of thing with Percy in the room?” Alright, disturbingly enough, they would, but Ron sure as hell didn't know that nor did he need to. Ever.

“I guess not,” grumbled Ron reluctantly, “but that still doesn't explain the Bondage Bracelets.”

“Ron, I am the smartest witch of our age. You don't think I can outwit something your idiot brothers came up with?” Ha! That sounded very plausible. Too bad isn't wasn't true. Stupid genius Weasley twins.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Ron grudgingly conceded.

“Good,” said Hermione, smiling at Ron. “I'm so happy we were able to straighten things out. Now that we've got that all settled, let's go get some breakfast. I bet you're starving.” Ron was easily distracted by food.

“Well, I am looking forward to those sausages,” replied Ron, his eyes suddenly lighting up.

“Yeah, me too,” muttered Hermione sarcastically. She had a funny feeling that she knew exactly what number five on Ginny's list was. Sighing, she pointed her wand at Malfoy and mended his broken nose. He sat up and glared at Ron.

Hermione started heading toward the stairs but then paused. It was probably best not to leave Malfoy alone. He would more than likely end up dead, or at the very least, horribly maimed. It would be just like him to ruin her perfect record. “Are you coming, Malfoy?” asked Hermione impatiently.

“Not at the moment,” he said with a smirk, letting his eyes drop down to little Draco.

Hermione glared at him and gritted her teeth. He just had to be difficult. “Breakfast. Are you coming to breakfast.”

Malfoy stood up and made a big show of brushing the Weasley dirt off of himself. “Funny, I'm not all that hungry anymore. Maybe because I've just eaten,” said Malfoy, winking lasciviously at Hermione and sending one of his infamous smirks at Ron and Harry.

Without a word or a moment's thought, Harry punched Malfoy right in the stomach. Malfoy let out a grunt and doubled over in pain. Ron looked over at Harry incredulously for a moment and then slowly turned his gaze toward Malfoy. Although Malfoy was clutching his stomach and unable to stand up completely straight, he still somehow managed to smirk up at them. Ron blinked and then blinked again. And suddenly all of the color drained out of his face. His hands noticeably clenched into tight fist at his sides and started trembling slightly. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he unceremoniously punched Malfoy hard in the face, knocking him to the floor once again. 

“See you downstairs, Hermione,” said Harry, carelessly stepping over Malfoy.

“We will definitely be having a little talk after breakfast,” added Ron, giving Hermione a hard stare before accidentally kicking Malfoy on his way to the stairs.

“Looking forward to it,” mumbled Hermione, watching them leave. “Get up, Malfoy.”

Malfoy moaned pitifully in response.

“Knock off the drama, Malfoy. We're late for breakfast.”

“Aren't you going to heal me first?” asked Malfoy pathetically from a fetal position on the floor.

“No. You deserve it,” said Hermione, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Have a little sympathy, Granger. I'm in real pain here,” groaned Malfoy, clutching his stomach and his eye.

Taking a little pity on him, Hermione healed the pain in his stomach, but she absolutely refused to fix his eye. Ron earned that black eye. “Why would you even say something like that?”

Malfoy sat up and looked at Hermione through his good eye. His other eye was swollen shut and already starting to blacken. “Because it was funny? And true.”

“You said it just to antagonize them, and you know it,” accused Hermione.

Malfoy smiled. “Did you see Weasel's face when he finally figured it out? Priceless.”

“It's not funny, Malfoy. You ruined everything. I had them convinced there was nothing going on between us and now...”

“And now?” prompted Malfoy.

“And now they think there is!”

“Well, there is, isn't there?”

Hermione looked at Malfoy stupidly. “There is?” Hermione's heart fluttered just a little bit. Was Malfoy really admitting that there was something going on between the two of them? Of course, deep down she knew there kind of was, but she didn't think Malfoy would ever admit it even if he was knocked senseless. Maybe Ron had hit him harder than she thought.

“Of course there's something between us. It's called lust,” said Malfoy, finally standing up.

“Lust,” echoed Hermione emptily. “You think all of this is about lust?”

“Yeah, you want to have sex with me. It's not a big deal. Lot's of girls do,” said Malfoy cockily.

Hermione did not like the idea of being lumped in with at lot of stupid girls. She did not like it at all. “So,” said Hermione, her hands clenching into tight fists at her sides, “you're saying everything that's happened between us is my fault. Because I want to have sex with you!”

“Pretty much.”

“And what about you? Do you want to have sex with me?”

“Well, I'm not exactly going to say no, am I?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Well, you're not all that unattractive, aside from the frizzy hair, and the sex talk couldn't be nearly as annoying as your normal everyday prattle. And...”

Hermione interrupted him because she didn't need to hear anymore of Malfoy's compliments, which he always somehow managed to make insulting. She doubted Malfoy was even capable of saying anything legitimately nice, especially about her. If she had to listen to one more of his stupid compliments, she might accidentally on purpose Avada him. Of course, she might do that anyway. “So, the only reason you would have sex with me is because I am supposedly throwing myself at you!” shrieked Hermione angrily, completely losing her temper.

“Do I need a better reason?” asked Malfoy, smirking at her one too many times.

Hermione answered his question by punching him in his good eye.

“Ow, fuck! What was that for?” gasped Malfoy, clutching his eye.

“That was your better reason,” spat Hermione. “How about now. Do you want to have sex with me now, Malfoy?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Malfoy manged to say weakly as he blearily watched Hermione stalk off down the stairs.

Trying to get away from Malfoy as quickly as possible, Hermione rushed down the steps and all but burst into the dining room in her haste. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fleur's parents, Charlie, Remus, Harry, Ron and Ginny were already seated around the table and looked up slightly startled at her abrupt entrance.

“Running a little late?” asked Ginny, smiling wickedly.

“Yes, sorry,” mumbled Hermione, quite embarrassed. She hadn't meant to make such an entrance. Malfoy just infuriated her so. She noticed Charlie patting the seat next to him, which definitely looked more inviting than the one open next to Ginny. She gratefully slid into it, her cheeks heating up to a charming color of pink. She was always slightly flustered around Charlie. He really was awfully sexy.

“It's alright, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley kindly. “We haven't even started yet. We're still waiting on Percy, Fred and George and... Oh my! What on earth happened to you!” Everyone turned to see Malfoy slinking in and looking more raccoon than ferret.

“I fell into something,” muttered Malfoy, glaring over at Ron.

“Yeah, my fist,” Ron loudly whispered to Harry, laughing obnoxiously.

Mrs. Weasley rushed over to help Malfoy, slapping Ron upside the head as she passed him. “You poor, dear. I have just the thing to take care of that. We'll have you fixed up in no time,” said Mrs. Weasley, ushering a protesting Malfoy off to the kitchen. 

“I wonder what happened to his other eye,” said Harry, raising his eyebrows curiously at Hermione.

“I did,” said Hermione proudly.

“Let me guess,” mused Ginny thoughtfully. “Malfoy put his foot in his mouth, and you put your fist in his eye?”

“Something like that,” muttered Hermione crossly. Something exactly like that.

“So, finally come to your senses, did you?” asked Ron snidely.

“Shut up, Ron.” She was not in the mood.

“I'll shut up when you finally confess.”

“I am not a criminal.”

“What else do you call a traitor?” asked Ron coldly.

Hermione was reaching for her wand when Mr. Weasley cleared his throat.

“So, isn't it great to have family and friends together like this?” asked Mr Weasley quickly, trying to ease the tension at the table and keep Hermione from hexing his son, “It's really wonderful to be able to have this time to catch up with each other. Things have been so hectic lately. So, anything new with anyone? Any stimulating news to report? Anyone?”

“Hermione has some some stimulating news. Don't you, Hermione,” prodded Ginny. 

“I do?” asked Hermione confused.

“Yes, you do,” said Ginny firmly, hitting her in the head with one of her stupid butterflies.

“Oh, yes I do,” said Hermione suddenly remembering. Glancing down at the list, she couldn't help gasping. “Holy shit!” 

“Pardon?” asked Charlie, looking at her in concern.

“Oh, nothing. I really don't have anything I want to say. Most definitely not.”

“Yes, you do,” urged Ginny. “What's the number one 'stimulating' thing you would like to share with the group, Hermione?”

“Oh well, um, I just bought anewvibrator,” mumbled Hermione, staring hard at the tablecloth.

“What was that? I don't think we all got that,” said Ginny pointedly.

“I said, I just bought a new vibrator!” spat Hermione, glaring at Ginny.

“Charming,” said Mr. Weasley. “And what exactly is a vibrator?”

Sweet Merlin. This was going to be the longest breakfast ever. “Just a Muggle thing,” said Hermione, not looking at Mr. Weasley for fear she would die of humiliation. “Nothing important really. Forget I mentioned it.”

“Is it anything like a rubber duck?” asked Mr. Weasley, sounding very interested.

“Oh, well, kind of,” said Hermione awkwardly, hoping he would just drop it already. 

“Is it yellow?”

“I'm no expert,” said Hermione, scowling across the table at a bemused Ginny. “It may come in an assortment of colors. I really don't know.”

“Is it shaped like a rubber duck?”

“No, not exactly.”

“What sort of shape is it?”

“Um, sort of sausage like,” mumbled Hermione.

“Did someone say sausages?” asked Ron, who hadn't been paying attention. “I love sausages!” 

“I don't think you would like this particular kind of sausage, Ron,” said Harry, cracking a smile.

“Is it hard or soft? Does it squeak?” continued Mr. Weasley mercilessly.

“Hard,” choked out Hermione, rubbing her hands over her face and wishing this conversation was very much over. “There could be some squeaking, I suppose.”

Ginny burst out laughing at that.

“So, how exactly is it like a rubber duck then?”

“Well, it's kind of rubbery I think. And it's a toy.”

“Oh, it's for children then.”

“No!” said Hermione quickly. “It's definitely for adults only. It's more like an appliance, I guess. 

“Oh, for the kitchen?”

“I suppose you could use it in the kitchen,” said Hermione uncomfortably.

“And what does it do?”

“It, um, vibrates.”

“Ooh, is it anything like a blender?” asked Mr. Weasley excitedly. ”We had one of those at work for a while, but they made us get rid of it because it kept spouting off rude things. Most unfortunate really. Nothing better than Muggle milk shakes, I dare say. Pure ecstasy.”

“I guess it is kind of like that then. People who use them probably feel quite a bit ecstatic; I would imagine. Oh, here comes Mrs. Weasley,” said Hermione, trying to distract Mr. Weasley and get him off the dreaded subject of vibrators.

“Oh, Molly,” said Mr. Weasley. “Hermione here was just telling me all about Muggle vibrators. We must get one for the kitchen.”

“Whatever makes you happy, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley distractedly, putting down some plates of food and then heading off to the kitchen for more.

Malfoy plopped a plate of pancakes in front of Hermione and sat down in the seat next to her. “Vibrators, Granger? Don't you get enough as it is without some stupid Muggle sex toy?”

“You know what a vibrator is?” asked Hermione in shock.

“Of course. Everyone does. Except old people,” said Malfoy, nodding at Mr. Weasley.

Hermione looked up and noticed Remus trying not to smile. Harry and Ron were looking at her like she grew another head. And Charlie... Dear Merlin.

“I thought your explanation was cute,” said Charlie, winking at her. “Although I find it hard to believe that a girl as pretty as you would have any need for something like that.”

Hermione blushed. “It was just something stupid I said. I didn't mean it. I don't really have one!” she added quickly.

“You know, Hermione,” said Charlie, smiling at her, “I'm here indefinitely now. At least until the war is over. If you ever... need anything. I'd be more than happy to be of service.”

Hermione suddenly felt all warm and melty inside.

Malfoy felt kind of melty inside too, although it was a little more like molten lava that was about to explode. “She doesn't need anything from you,” said Malfoy curtly, leaning across Hermione to glare at Charlie.

Hermione pushed him away. “It's none of your business what I need, Malfoy. I don't want anything from you, particularly what you think I want from you!”

“So, you're Malfoy,” said Charlie, looking Malfoy up and down. “Interesting.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” asked Malfoy angrily.

“Nothing much.” Charlie shrugged, his eyes smiling.

“I've got my eye on you,” said Malfoy, looking at Charlie suspiciously.

“Good luck with that.” Charlie laughed, making Malfoy even angrier.

“What did I miss?” asked George, sauntering in wearing a toga, perfect makeup and the biggest boobs Hermione had ever seen. Harry and Ron nearly fell out of their seats; they were laughing so hard. Hermione had to admit she was rather impressed with Ginny's makeover skills. George was completely transformed. The oversized hoop earrings were a nice touch.

“Nothing much.” Ginny smirked. “Dad was just asking Hermione some probing questions about vibrators.”

“Excellent,” replied George, rubbing his hands together. “I wouldn't mind doing some probing as well.”

George Weasley!” exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, the moment she caught sight of him. “What on earth have you done to yourself!”

“Now, Molly,” said Mr. Weasley, looking at his son warily. “If the boy wants to experiment, let him be. At least he's not wearing Death Eater robes. What are those, son? Bed Sheets?”

“Besides, Mum,” said Ginny, trying not to laugh but failing miserably. “You always said you wished you had another girl.”

“I'm not a girl,” said George, squeezing his big boobs. “I'm a woman.”

“Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley worriedly, coming over and poking curiously at his over-sized chest. “Please tell me they aren't permanent.”

“”I wouldn't know, Mum. Why don't you ask your darling daughter Ginny?” said George sarcastically.

“How would I know about such things, Georgina dear?” Ginny smirked. “Mine are real.”

“Yeah, real small,” joked George, jiggling his enormous boobs in her face.

Before Ginny could hit George with her infamous Bat Bogey Curse and ruin everyone's breakfast, Mrs. Weasley intervened. Patting Ginny on her wand hand just to be safe, she said, “Don't you mind him, Ginny. Your breasts are just the right size. Don't you think so, Harry?”

Harry immediately began choking on his tea and was unfortunately unable to answer.

Ginny glared at him and said, “Harry doesn't notice such things. He's too busy saving the world. And Hermione.”

“Is Hermione in trouble?” asked Mrs. Weasley, giving Hermione a concerned look.

“Hermione isn't in trouble. That we know of anyway,” Ginny added, smirking over at Hermione. “She's 'with' trouble.” 

Mrs. Weasley looked over at Malfoy and said, “Ohhh.”

“More like stuck with trouble,” muttered Hermione bitterly, making Charlie smile and Malfoy scowl.

“Good morning, everyone,” said Fred cheerfully, walking breezily in and taking the seat next to Ginny, which just so happened to be directly across from Hermione. “Glorious day, isn't it?”

“What are you so chipper about?” asked George, sliding into the seat next to Fred. “You look even more ridiculous than I do.”

“Not possible, George,” said Fred, squeezing George's right boob. “I think I look rather dazzling. What do you think, Hermione?” Fred leaned across the table and gave her a knowing look.

Breathing him in, Hermione took one look at Fred sparkling in the sunlight with his clownishly applied makeup and nearly knocked her seat over in her haste to get to him. Throwing her arms around his neck, she laid across the table kissing him hungrily, only breaking the kiss long enough to say, “I think you look good enough to eat.”

George tapped Hermione on the shoulder until he finally got her attention. “And how do I look?” he asked, puckering up.

“Like a fool,” said Hermione before she went back to kissing Fred.

“I look better than the fool you're kissing,” huffed George. “Whoever did his makeup was probably blind or a moron. They didn't even stay in the lines for Merlin's sake.”

“It's not that bad,” grumbled Malfoy under his breath. Malfoys didn't like to be accused of doing anything poorly.

“Oh, was that your work?” asked George sarcastically. “Too bad you can't quit your day job of being a prick.”

“I think you did a wonderful job, Draco,” said Mrs. Weasley, giving George a glare. “Fred looks quite stunning. Although, I dare say, Hermione is probably ruining his lipstick.”

“That's Mood Lipstick,” said Ginny. “It's not going anywhere.”

“Oh, what a good idea,” replied Mrs. Weasley.

“What is wrong with you people?” asked George incredulously. “He looks like a clown whore. Did you even notice the blue eye shadow? Ginny, you always speak the truth no matter whose feelings it hurts. Tell them he looks like a clown whore.”

“Quit picking on my favorite brother. I think he looks very dashing even if Malfoy is partially responsible. Probably the only successful thing he's ever done. You're just jealous. Even with my help, you still look like a complete buffoon.”

“I agree with Ginny,” said Harry quickly, trying to get in Ginny's good graces again.

“I'm not jealous,” huffed George indignantly.

“You are,” said Ginny matter of factly. “Your lips are green.”

“Your lips are rather green, dear,” agreed Mrs. Weasley.

“Dad, Charlie, you tell them. Fred looks like a freak,” sulked George, trying to rub off the Mood Lipstick.

“I don't like to judge,” replied Mr. Weasley awkwardly, trying not to look directly at either of his sons.

“I can't say I notice a difference,” replied Charlie, grinning mischievously.

Fleur's parents said something in French, but as no one at the table spoke French, nobody had any idea what they saying or really cared for that matter. Mrs. Delacour, who was sitting on the other side of Charlie, looked at Fred with cougar-like eyes though and noticeably undid a couple of buttons on her blouse.

George looked around the table completely dumbfounded. “What the hell is going on here?”

“I think he looks like a clown whore,” said Ron agreeably.

“Oh, what the hell do you know?” grumbled George, slouching back in his chair.

Remus started sniffing from the other end of the table. “It smells like someone slipped him a Pheromone Potion, he said knowledgeably. “And a lot of it at that. He really reeks.”

George sat up a little straighter at that piece of information. “A Pheromone Potion? That's genius! Or really stupid in your case,” said George, looking over at Malfoy with a smirk.

“Is someone going to pry her off of him or what?” asked Malfoy finally, scowling and grabbing onto Hermione's ankles. He had been trying to look disinterested at her kissing display, but he just couldn't take it anymore. He didn't care if Ron did give him another black eye. He couldn't sit back and watch her kissing that sparkly idiot all day. Charlie stood up to help him and grabbed onto Hermione's waist. Together they were able to tear her away from Fred and slide her back into her chair.

“Wow,” said Fred, his lips now a bright shade of magenta. “If I knew you were into kinky get ups, I would have put on my tutu for you yesterday. Too bad you vanished it along with the rest of my clothes.”

“It had nothing to do with you or what you're wearing,” said George, his lips still a bright shade of green. “It was a bloody Pheromone Potion.”

“A Pheromone Potion? Brilliant! Or... really stu-pid,” said Fred in a sing song voice, wagging his finger at Malfoy.

“Twins are fucking annoying,” grumbled Malfoy.

“I'd agree with you,” said Hermione with a sigh, “but unfortunately, I'm in the mood again. I would do both of them right now if George didn't look like such an idiot.”

“Hey!” said George, who overheard her.

“Sorry, I'm late, Mother,” said Percy, entering the room and sitting in the seat at the end of the table between George and Malfoy. “I had a few distractions this morning.”

“Interesting article in the Prophet?” Malfoy smirked.

“It got me... thinking, if that's what you mean,” returned Percy, effectively wiping off Malfoy's smirk.

Malfoy scooted even closer to Hermione, who would have yelled at him to get off of her lap if she was paying any attention at all. She was still slightly distracted by the awesomeness that was Fred.

“Alright, now that we're all here, let's eat,” said Mrs. Weasley. “I made a ton of food so eat up.”

Ginny caught Hermione's eye and nodded toward the list. Hermione grudgingly looked down at the list. Might as well get it over with.

“Some tea, Hermione?” asked Mrs. Weasley, coming around with the kettle.

“Yes, please. And so you know, I swallow,” said Hermione, keeping her eyes on the pouring tea.

'I think we all kind of figured that out yesterday when it was flashing across your ass,” cracked George.

Mrs. Weasley glared at George and patted Hermione soothingly on the shoulder. “We all do at some point, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley matter of factly before turning to Malfoy. “Would you like some tea, Draco?”

“Yes, ma'am,” said Draco politely, causing Hermione to look up in shock.

“I wasn't raised by trolls you know,” said Malfoy annoyed.

“You should have been so lucky,” snapped Hermione. She was still angry at him from earlier. One nice thing wasn't going to change her opinion of him.

“Actually, I think Draco would prefer orange juice this morning,” interrupted Ginny, shoving a glass toward him.

“I don't like orange juice,” whined Draco, pushing it back.

“You do this morning,” said Ginny, giving him a significant look.

“Fine,” snapped Draco, grabbing the glass and taking a large gulp. When nothing happened right away, he started to get nervous. Ginny's look of triumph didn't make him feel any better about it.

Hermione was rather curious about how Ginny was planning to humiliate Malfoy, but it was difficult to enjoy Malfoy's plight when she had her own humiliation to endure. Hopefully, Malfoy's punishment would be so humiliating that it would take some of the focus off of her for a while. Maybe it would involve nakedness. That would certainly be a distraction. On second thought, maybe a little too distracting. She looked down at her list again. Shit. It figured number three would be that.

“Excuse me, Charlie,” said Hermione, leaning across him to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Delacour. They probably already thought she was crazy anyway and hopefully they would go back to France soon, and she would never have to see them again. “Bon jour, Mr. and Mrs. Delacour. I just wanted to know if you would be interested in having a menage a trois with me. Since I've never done it before and Harry and Ron would probably be complete shit at it, I thought it best that I try it out with a couple that would know what they were doing, preferably one that was French and old. I immediately thought of you two. I'm a quick learner. Think about it. Merci.”

Mr. and Mrs. Delacour looked at her blankly and then started whispering to each other in rapid French. Probably discussing how rapidly they could leave this crazy house without seeming too rude.

“You're awfully busy this morning,” commented Charlie, his eyes twinkling.

“Yes, agreed Hermione and with a sigh read off number four. “Charlie, I think you should know that one of my more adventurous fantasies is to have sex with you while surrounded by dragons. I think it would be really hot if they watched while you pounded your penis into me over and over again dragon-style.”

Charlie's eyes widened a bit, but he responded calmly enough. “I think we could arrange something like that.”

“We could?” squeaked out Hermione a tad fearfully. She hadn't expected him to respond positively to such a ludicrous statement. Holy shit.

Charlie chuckled at her response. “Did you by any chance lose a bet to Ginny?”

“How did you know?” asked Hermione, breathing a sigh of relief.

“That little fantasy you just revealed didn't sound very much like the Hermione Granger I know.”

“Hermione has great tits,” said Malfoy with a look of horror on his face. “They fit perfectly in my hands and my mouth.”

A hush fell over the table, and everyone stopped what they were doing to turn and look at Malfoy. Ron stopped stuffing his face and froze mid air with a forkful of eggs only halfway to his mouth. And even Mrs. Weasley had stopped bustling around the table serving food. Hermione could only look at Malfoy with her mouth open. Vulgar as it was, it was one of the few nice things he had ever said about her.

“That reminds me; I had the best dream last night,” said Fred, sinking deep into thought with a reminiscent smile on his face.

Charlie leaned in close to Hermione and whispered in her ear, “You're not the same little girl you used to be. I guess I don't really know you after all. I'd like to though.” And his tongue flicked in her ear. 

Hermione felt a shiver go down her spine. Just as her mind was about to wonder to dragons and other hot things, her thoughts were interrupted by an origami butterfly. Taking a moment to glare at Ginny, Hermione read the note. “And you thought Malfoy couldn't ever say anything nice. Thanks to me, every time he hears your name, he has to compliment you. And the best part is that he can't fuck it up like he normally does by denying his real feelings. Pretty brilliant if I do say so myself. It embarrasses the both of you and works quite nicely into my matchmaking scheme. His magic number is also ten. I wonder what he will all share? A lot it seems if his first compliment is anything to go by.” 

Hermione had to admit that she was curious to find out what Malfoy's compliments were going to be as she hadn't been aware that he was even capable of having nice thoughts about her. It was just too bad that everyone else was going to find out as well. It appeared as though all of the nice thoughts about her were going to be vulgar and best kept to himself. Apparently, Ginny had found yet another way to humiliate her. So much for Malfoy taking any attention away from her. 

“Hermione,” said Ginny, smiling evilly, “would you like some sausages?”

Before Hermione could even give her horribly embarrassing pre-written answer, Malfoy interrupted with yet another mind blowing compliment.

“Hermione was the first and only girl I've ever pictured while wacking off. And I do it quite a lot.” Malfoy grabbed the plate of sausages, piled some on his plate and then handed them to Hermione. “Your turn.”

Hermione would have been completely speechless had it not been for Ginny's horrid list. “Yes, I believe I'll take one of these for later,” said Hermione, putting a nice big sausage on her plate and trying really hard not to listen to the words coming out of her mouth. “This one's nice and plump. Perfect for a game of hide the sausage in my vagina.”

Once again an awkward silence filled the room, although not quite loud enough to drown out the word “vagina” which was now echoing over and over in her mind. It was pretty much unbearable, and Hermione was only halfway through the list. 

Mrs. Weasley finally felt compelled to say something. “Ginny once stuck a button up her nose, and we had to take her to St. Mungo's to get it out. It was quite an ordeal. And I can only imagine how hard it would be to remove a sausage from... certain areas. You should be very careful with what you put in your body, Hermione.”

“I'd like to hide my sausage in Hermione's vagina. Fortunately, she never wears knickers.”

Hermione could only close her eyes and will this excruciatingly horrible moment to pass.

Ron glared at Malfoy before turning to Hermione. “The lesson of Mum's story is to be careful what you stick in your body because you might end up getting stuck with 'it'. And by it, I mean that prick,” said Ron, nodding his head at Malfoy.

“I'm not putting anything in my body. It was just a joke. And,” said Hermione, glaring at Malfoy and stabbing her sausage angrily with her fork, “forget about ever playing hide the sausage with me. You can keep Mr. Stupid Sausage Seeker Pants to yourself.” 

“Good one.” George laughed.

“Everyone knows Malfoy's a shit seeker anyway,” said Fred. “Knickerless or not, he probably couldn't find his way to the snatch anymore than he could to the Snitch.”

“Can't find the Snitch or the snatch,” George repeated, laughing even harder.

“That is quite enough, George,” said Mrs. Weasley sternly. “You can wash the dishes along with your mouth after breakfast. Without magic.”

“What about Fred?” asked George indignantly. “He said it first.”

“Yes, he's very clever, isn't he?” replied Mrs. Weasley, looking fondly over at Fred, who smile angelically back at her.

“I bet I've found the snatch more often than Potter has,” muttered Malfoy crossly, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Hermione.

“Speaking of Quidditch,” said Fred. “Does anyone besides Ron think the Cannons ever stand a chance at the World Cup?”

“They weren't that bad this year,” grumbled Ron.

“They suck,” said Ginny. “What do you think, Hermione?”

“Hermione knows how to suck. She gave me the best blow job I ever had. She has good suction, goes deep, uses her teeth and pays plenty of attention to your balls.”

Hermione glared at Malfoy and Ginny before responding. “I don't really care for Quidditch.”

“Oh, really?” Ginny smirked. “Then why do you always seem to enjoy it so much?”

Hermione glanced down at her list and read it verbatim, stumbling only slightly over the difficult words. “I have to... masturbate during Quidditch matches to make it even the slightest bit interesting. I'd fall asleep completely if it wasn't for my self-induced... orgasms. That's the reason I always have a smile on my face no matter whether we win or lose.”

The men at the table all looked at her as if this was the most outlandish thing she had said all morning, as if everything else she had been spouting off was just ordinary run of the mill small talk. Hermione just didn't understand men and their obsession with Quidditch. Because to them, this really was the most outlandish thing she had said. Picturing Hermione Granger masturbating was one thing. One really hot thing. But Hermione Granger masturbating during Quidditch. Now that was sacrilege. 

“You mean you haven't even been watching me play this whole time?” asked Ron clearly disappointed. “You've been too busy playing with yourself?”

“Of course I've been watching you. I, well, I... Haven't you ever heard of multitasking?” finished Hermione lamely, not quite sure how to reply. 

“Maybe Quidditch just makes her hot,” said Fred, blowing her a kiss and sending her into a mad frenzy of passion. Diving across the table, she pounced on Fred, knocking his chair over. Straddling him on the floor, she kissed Fred's neck and whispered such dirty things in his ear that Fred completely lost his head and forgot all about being in the middle of breakfast. With his family no less. Sliding his robe off her shoulders to uncover her breasts, he started kissing them saying, “I had the most delicious dream.” Before he could get any farther and reveal anymore of his “dream”, Malfoy tackled them, knocking Hermione off to the side.

“Weird,” said Fred, his lips turning blue. “Malfoy fucked things up in my real dream too.”

“Malfoy! What are you doing!”

“I'm rescuing you,” said Malfoy, sitting on top of her and closing up her robe after taking a quick peek.

“I don't need rescuing,” she snapped, wiggling to get free. 

Malfoy groaned slightly, but he didn't move. ”Yes, you do before you do something and someone really stupid.”

“You're one to talk,” grumbled Fred. “Who gave who the Pheromone Potion?”

“Get off me! I want him. I need to have him now!”

“You heard the woman.” Fred smirked at Malfoy with lips now more of a peacock colored blue. “She wants me.”

“You don't really want him,” said Malfoy, ignoring Fred and focusing only on Hermione. “It's just a potion.”

“How would you know what I want? You think I want you,” said Hermione cruelly.

“You do want me,” said Malfoy, glaring at her. 

“I don't. I want Fred. He's more of a man than you'll ever be.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? He's wearing make-up.”

“And sparkles. Don't forget the sparkles.” Hermione sighed, looking over at Fred longingly with lust-filled eyes.

Malfoy didn't like Hermione's attention being so focused on Fred. She was acting crazy, like she was actually in love with the sparkly prick. Malfoy didn't know whether to slap her or... “You do want me,” said Malfoy, leaning in until their lips were almost touching.

“I... I don't,” said Hermione, looking uncertain.

“Would you like me to prove it to you?” asked Malfoy huskily before touching his lips gently to hers and kissing her.

Hermione's hands automatically wrapped around Malfoy's neck as she returned the kiss.

“Come on, Mione,” interrupted Fred. “Just tell him to bugger off, so we can finish up what we started.”

Annoyed at the interruption and the fact that everyone was looking at her, Hermione snapped, “It's not happening, Fred. You look ridiculous. And stop calling me, Mione. My name is Hermione.”

“Hermione's pussy tastes so sweet; I could eat her every morning for breakfast.”

That little statement pretty much canceled out any warm and fuzzy feelings she was having about Malfoy. Pushing him off of her, she returned to her seat and started angrily cutting up her pancakes and shoving them in her mouth.

“I...”

“Shut up, Ron,” said Hermione, continuing to stab her pancakes with her fork.

“That one was your fault,” Malfoy said grouchily, sitting down next to her.

“Why do all of your compliments have to be so... so vulgar!” she hissed.

Malfoy shrugged. “I don't know. I just feel compelled to say the first nice thing about you that pops in my head. I'm probably thinking vulgar things because you're saying vulgar things.”

“I'm only saying vulgar things because I have to!”

“Well, so am I! You think I like saying nice things about you? In front of people!”

“I think you like humiliating me.”

“It's really not worth this much trouble.”

“Just try thinking a head of time about some compliments that don't involve any of my body parts or lewd acts.”

“Like what?”

“Like why don't you tell everyone how smart I am or what a great study ethic I have.”

“More pancakes, Hermione?”

“Studying makes Hermione horny. I'd study History of Magic with her if it meant getting a piece of her ass.”

Taking a deep, calming breath, Hermione turned to Mrs. Weasley and said, “No thanks, Mrs. Weasley. I think I've had enough.”

“Undoubtedly,” replied Mrs. Weasley, giving Malfoy an odd look.

Hermione pinched Malfoy hard in the arm and whispered angrily, “The next body part you mention of mine better be my brains, or I am going to completely hex the shit out of you.”

“Oh, I get it,” said Fred. “Malfoy has to say something nice or lewd about her, I'm not sure which, every time he hears someone say Hermione. Brilliant.”

“I want to fuck Hermione's brains out.” Looking at Hermione's furious expression, Malfoy shrugged. “I said brains, didn't I?”

“Excellent,” said George, rubbing his hands together. “Tell us, Malfoy. What exactly do you have to offer our dear Hermione.”

“I'd like to give her a pearl necklace. With my cum,” answered Malfoy, scowling at the twins.

“I don't want any jewelry from you, especially the disgusting kind.”

“It was their fault,” said Malfoy, pointing at the twins accusingly.

“What did we do, Hermione?” asked Fred and George in unison, wearing identical smirks.

“Hermione would make a great dominatrix. I could totally get off being submissive to her. I think we should try out those Bondage Bracelets again and find out which kinky thing we did to get them off.”

“Ha! You did do something kinky to get them off,” accused Ron.

“I didn't do anything, Ron!”

“Maybe they came off while Malfoy was having breakfast!” shouted Ron.

“Shows how much you know,” snapped Hermione. “They came off before that!” Oh, why couldn't she just keep her big mouth shut.

“What? Did Malfoy have a midnight snack too?” Ron fumed.

“Ah, Bondage Bracelets,” said George. “One of our best back room sellers.”

“Thank Merlin for kinky wizards,” added Fred.

“Nothing kinky happened!” exclaimed Hermione.

“Weasel's wrong as usual,” said Malfoy. “I would have remembered a midnight snack like that.”

“Well, it doesn't have to be 'that',” said Fred. “Any old orgasm would unlock them.”

“Ha! It probably was your fault then,” Malfoy accused Hermione. “You were probably having one of your dreams. The kind that always ends in an orgasm!”

“If I was, it wasn't about you,” huffed Hermione.

“Of course, they're also idiot proofed,” added George, nodding his head over at Ron. “If she doesn't have an orgasm in three hours, it's obviously not going to happen.”

“Shut up,” grumbled Ron. “I never had to use the idiot release.”

“So, they just release if nothing happens in three hours?” asked Hermione in relief.

“Yep,” said Fred.

“Can't have women stuck with inept lovers forever, now can we?” added George.

“No, we cannot,” answered Fred.

“So, nothing happened then. Told you so, Ron,” said Hermione triumphantly.

“No, you told me that you had outsmarted my idiot brothers,” said Ron.

“Now, that's just mean,” said George.

“And untrue,” said Fred, waving his finger at Hermione.

“That's not exactly what I said,” Hermione replied uncomfortably. In so many words anyway.

“Well, what do you exactly have to say then?” asked George.

Hermione looked down at her list. “Um, Percy can give himself a blow job.”

Everyone looked at Hermione incredulously and then at Percy.

“No bloody way,” said Ron.

“Cannot be done,” said George.

“Impossible,” agreed Fred.

“Figures,” said Malfoy, rolling his eyes.

“It's none of anyone's business what I can or cannot do in private,” replied Percy stiffly.

“I think I have to check on something in the kitchen,” said Mrs. Weasley quickly.

“I'll help you, dear,” replied Mr. Weasley, right on her heals.

“There is no way Percy could do that,” insisted George. “He always seems so... inflexible.”

“I beg to differ,” replied Percy with a hint of a smirk forming.

“Take it from a werewolf; it most certainly is possible,” said Remus a little too knowledgeably.

“Impressive.” Charlie whistled.

George stood up clapping, followed quickly by Fred. “Finally, something we can be proud of you for.”

Percy tried to look pompous, but he almost smiled.

“Remus, can I ask you a really awful question?” asked Hermione quietly. She preferred to ask this before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley returned to the room.

“Of course, ask away,” said Remus, smiling widely as though he knew what was coming.

This was so embarrassing. He was her frigging boss. Hopefully, the Order didn't have some strict sexual harassment policy that she was unaware of or any sort of policy on bigotry for that matter. Otherwise, she was so getting fired over this. “If we were to ever have sex, would you do it doggie style?”

Trying to keep a straight face, Remus said, “That would depend.”

“On the full moon?” Hermione couldn't hep it. She was naturally inquisitive, and she didn't know anything about the mating habits of werewolves.

“No, my mood. If it was the full moon, I would probably just eat you.”

“Oh,” said Hermione, her face heating up.

“All of you,” he clarified, smiling and showing his teeth.

“Oh,” Hermione gulped.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came back in with a fresh pot of tea. “If we missed anything, don't tell us,” said Mrs. Weasley, going around filling everyone's cup.

“You don't even want to know that we have accepted Percy back into the family with hero status?”

“Oh, well that is good news,” said Mrs. Weasley pleasantly. 

“Just don't tell us the details,” said Mr. Weasley with a sigh.

Everyone ate in peace for a while before Fred finally said, “I think we're in need of a little dinner conversation. What do say, Her...”

“If you promise not to say my name, I'm sure I can come up with something interesting.” She didn't think she could take one more of Malfoy's compliments. “Let's see,” said Hermione, looking at her list. “Has anyone here ever had anal sex?”

Percy Weasley nearly choked on his bacon and Fred and George started snickering. 

Hermione would have liked to have left it at that, but she wasn't quite finished with her humiliation it seemed. “I know I've always been interested in taking it up the ass.”

Fred and George burst out laughing at that. Ginny was smirking. Remus was again trying not to smile. The Weasley's and Harry looked uncomfortable. Nobody had a clue what the hell the Delacours were saying. Someone probably should have done a Translation Spell. Percy looked rather pompous as though he knew exactly what to do. Ron's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Charlie's hand suddenly found its way to her knee. And she couldn't even look at Malfoy. She was just glad that no one had said her name. Who the fuck could guess what kind of compliment that would inspire from Malfoy? 

“That kind of thing is best left to us old married folks,” said Mrs. Weasley very seriously. “Teenagers should just stick to snogging and heavy petting until you're more experienced with such things.”

“Yes, Mrs. Weasley,” said Hermione meekly.

“It's rather uncomfortable anyway,” continued Mrs. Weasley, finally piling food on her own plate. “Sure, it's sort of exciting in that forbidden taboo kind of way, but the old fashioned way is much more fulfilling, not to mention much more satisfying. Men seem to like it for some reason though.”

This time everyone looked at Mrs. Weasley in shock. “Mum!” shrieked all of her children.

“I have seven kids. Did you really think I've never had sex?” scolded Mrs. Weasley. “Your father and I are in the prime of our life. We're not dead you know. We still have needs. Oh, and by the way, dear, I owl ordered that vibrator you were talking about. I was reading about it in the catalog just before, and it sounds like just what we need to spice up our time in the kitchen together.”

“Mum, I think I would like to have that sex talk after all,” said Ginny quite in awe.

Hermione only had one more horrible thing to say on her list and now was as good as time as any. Might as well get it over with while everyone was still feeling stunned and slightly nauseous. “I sometimes have lesbian fantasies,” blurted out Hermione. All of the men at the table looked slightly turned on at this admission. However, it wasn't the horny expressions that bothered her most. It was the smug one that really got to her. “Ever since that incident with Ginny,” she added impulsively.

“It didn't say that!” exclaimed Ginny angrily.

“I'm expounding,” snapped Hermione. ”You never said that I couldn't do that. What's wrong? Don't want your family to know about your lesbian tendencies?”

“I am not a lesbian! I am in love with Harry, who is a complete idiot, and I am still very mad at, but am in love with never the less.”

“Ginny, are you saying what happened between us meant nothing?” Hermione smirked.

“Nothing happened between us! You are a fucking liar!”

“Why are you denying your feelings in front of your family? Are you ashamed?”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, why don't you? Let's talk about the feelings you're denying. I didn't come up with this little breakfast plan just for my own amusement. Although it was quite amusing. Why don't you and Malfoy finally admit how you feel about each other? Are you ashamed? Why are you hiding it from everyone including yourselves!”

Hermione looked at Ginny fearfully. It figured that bitch would turn this around on her. “I... I don't know what you mean,” stammered Hermione.

Ron looked closely at Hermione and then at Malfoy. “I, for one, would like to know what's going on around here. In fact, I think Malfoy should tell us exactly how he really feels about... Hermione,” said Ron saying her name as though he had just said check mate.

Malfoy turned to Hermione with a terrified expression on his face. Grabbing her hands tightly he said, “Hermione, I lllla...”

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. It was obvious he was trying to fight the spell. He was about to say something really big. This was it. This was the moment. She would finally find out how he really felt about her. Holy shit!

“Llllllllllla...” 

“Twenty galleons says it's only like,” said George, waving his money in the air, his lips now the shiny color of gold.

“I'll take that bet,” replied Ginny confidently. “It is most definitely love.”

“My money's with Ginny,” said Harry, trying to be supportive.

“It better be,” replied George, smirking at Ginny. “She's probably not good for it otherwise.”

“Shut up, George,” snapped Ginny.

“I think it's lust,” said Fred.

“Hermione, I lust you,” said George mockingly. “Who the hell says that?”

“I don't know,” shot back Fred. “Dip shits?”

“Lllllllllll...” Malfoy was shaking now and starting to turn blue from trying to stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

“Maybe he'll die before he finally spits it out,” muttered Ron grumpily, mostly because he didn't have any money to place a bet.

“I'm betting on love,” said Mr. Weasley, putting his money on the table and sending an apologetic look to his wife.

“You always were a romantic,” said Mrs. Weasley, squeezing his hand and giving him an adoring smile.

“Lllllllllllllllllllll...” Malfoy couldn't hold it in much longer. He looked about ready to burst.

“Licked,” shouted Remus and Percy at the same time, throwing their money on the table. They both looked rather confident about their answers, although a bit sheepish at having shouted it out so.

“La la la la llllla...” Malfoy started stuttering.

The suspense was killing her. She had to finally know the truth once and for all. If only he would quit being such a bloody coward. “Oh, for Merlin's sake, Malfoy, just fucking spit it out already!”

“Hermione, I...”


	47. Wasted Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter. I hope you like it or perhaps some other "L" word. ;)

“Hermione...” choked out Malfoy again, gasping for air. The words were about to kill him. He was about to literally choke to death on his own words. How was that for poetic justice? With every breath he took, the words started tumbling out uncontrollably, and they were getting harder and harder for him to hold in. And as not breathing really wasn't an option, well a permanent one anyway, he knew he was going to have to do exactly what Hermione had screamed at him and just fucking spit it out. Bloody know-it-all.

The thing was, he didn't want to spit the words out. He wasn't ready to spit these particular words out. The words on the tip of his tongue completely terrified him. And he didn't even know what they were for sure. The one thing he did know was that he didn't want to say them in front of a bunch of bloody Gryffindors. He was a Slytherin, and he had a strong feeling that whatever he was about to say wasn't something any self-respecting Slytherin would be saying to a Gryffindor in the first place, especially Hermione Granger. Unfortunately, it seemed he had very little choice in the matter. He was spitting the words out whether he liked it or not. 

On the brink of death or humiliation, he wasn't sure which was the more gruesome fate, Malfoy's Slytherin instincts finally kicked in. In a moment of sheer self-preservation, Malfoy did the only thing he could think of to eat his words. He started filling his mouth with food. From his plate, from Hermione's, from surrounding platters within his reach. Pancakes, eggs, sausage and bacon. Anything and everything he could find to stuff his face in a last ditch effort to avoid saying those dreaded words. Then not being able to hold it in a moment longer, he did exactly what Hermione had told him to do and literally spit the words out along with all of the pancakes, eggs, sausage and bacon that he had just recently shoved in. “I lurf you.”

Hermione felt her face heat up. Did he just say what she thought he said? Wiping the food from her face, so that she could glare at him properly, Hermione exclaimed angrily, “You... you lurf me!”

“Apparently,” Malfoy said with a shrug, picking some food out of her hair just to annoy her.

“I don't believe you!” she exclaimed.

Malfoy gave her a bored look as only a true Malfoy could do in such a situation and said, “Why don't you ask Weaselette if you don't believe me? It was her frigging spell.”

“It's true,” piped in Ginny. “He couldn't possibly tell a lie under that spell. He must really lurf you.”

“That is not what I meant!” fumed Hermione, banging her fists on the table in a childish manner. “You are a bloody coward, Draco Malfoy, and you know it!”

“What did you want me to say?” asked Malfoy angrily, losing his cool. “That I love you? That I licked you? Or my personal favorite, that I lust you?”

“That was a completely legitimate guess,” mumbled Fred crossly.

“I don't know what I wanted you to say, but I can tell you, without a doubt, that 'lurf' never crossed my mind!” snapped Hermione.

“Damn,” said George, reaching out his hand to take his money back. “I can't believe he pulled a Ron.”

“Whaf's daf suppose doof mean?” asked Ron, his mouth full of food.

“Not so fast, George,” said Ginny, smacking his hand away from the money. “It's obvious he said love.” 

“And how exactly do you get love out of lurf?” asked George sarcastically.

“I've been interpreting Ron for years. How many times has he said that he lurfs sausages?”

“How the hell would I know?” asked George. “I never listen to Ron.”

“Exactly. Therefore, I win the bet,” said Ginny, reaching for the money on the table.

“I don't think so,” said Fred, slapping her hand away. “I've been listening to Ron even longer than you have. How do you think I'm able to make fun of him so very well? And I can say without a doubt that he 'loofs' sausages not 'lurfs' them. So, obviously I win the bet.”

“You really think he said, I lust you?” asked Ginny mockingly. “Be serious for once. I think we all agreed that was a crap guess. Even a bloody Pheromone Potion can't disguise that.”

“Unlike your girly romantic guess, sorry, Dad,” added Fred apologetically, “it was the most realistic guess there was. He's obviously in lust with Hermione. I think I can safely say, all of the men at this table are. Well, aside from Dad hopefully. None of the other things he said under your spell had anything to do with love, so why would this one last thing? Everything he said was sexual.”

“Exactly,” agreed Percy. “That is why it is much more likely that it was licked. 'I licked you' makes perfect sense, especially under the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” asked Fred, not willing to take his hands off the money yet.

Percy looked uncomfortable, but twenty galleons was twenty galleons. He was rather tight with his money. “I saw him lick her. Several times, in fact. While I was reading the Prophet in the bathroom this morning.”

“Reading the Prophet, my ass,” muttered Malfoy.

“I knew you two were up to something in the bathroom!” exclaimed Ron heatedly.

“Get over it, Ron!”

“While a tad bit disturbing, Percy's little peep show confession doesn't affect anything. It most certainly was not licked,” said Ginny adamantly. “Malfoy already admitted that he licked her, well, in slightly more descriptive words I suppose, but he admitted it none the less. And it's impossible for him to confess the same thing twice. I made sure of it.” 

“Excellent point, Ginny, but I think I have to side with Percy on this,” said Remus. “And it has nothing to do with how I bet either, although I certainly wouldn't mind a few extra galleons in my pocket. I'm pretty sure it was licked. I caught him licking her at Grimmauld Place. Mashed potatoes, I believe. Definitely different than the breakfast episode he mentioned earlier. More of a late dinner or midnight snack if you will.”

“'I licked her' isn't even a compliment,” insisted Ginny.

“Yes, it is,” said Remus, Percy, Ron, Fred and George. Harry refused to make eye contact with Ginny on that one.

Ginny rolled her eyes in response.

“Besides,” said Percy, “it's obvious from everything he's said so far, that he is shit at giving compliments. Why should this one be any different?”

“Here, here,” said Fred in agreement.

“Says the idiot who thinks 'I lust you' is a compliment. I bet that gets you real far with the ladies,” said Malfoy sarcastically.

“Do you really want to make another bet with a Weasley?” asked Fred, smirking at Malfoy.

Malfoy only glared back.

“Ron, be useful for once,” said Ginny rudely. “Stuff your face and tell Hermione that you love her.”

“I'm not doing that! And what do you mean by being useful for once? I'm the one who got him to admit it in the first place,” huffed Ron, not happy about the fact that no one seemed to appreciate his brilliant chess-like move.

“You got him to admit that he lurfs her. Big whooping deal,” replied Ginny, not at all impressed.

“It was less disgusting than what you got him to admit,” declared Ron heatedly before muttering under his breath, “that we know of anyway.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” asked Hermione angrily.

“I don't know. Maybe lurfing is some perverted sex act you two do together. We already know you're into bondage and blow jobs.”

“If lurfing was something kinky, I'm sure you would know about it!” shot back Hermione.

“Alright,” said George. “I don't think we're going to come to an agreement on this. While I like the idea of it being some kinky sexual act that I would very much like to learn more about, the galleons are now telling me that 'lurf' sounds very similar to 'like'. Well, if you combine it with a plateful of food and an idiot like Malfoy anyway. What we need is someone impartial. Charlie didn't participate in the bet, and he's always been relatively honest. As far as we all know anyway. So, how about it, Charlie? What is the meaning of lurf?”

“Well,” began Charlie, taking the question seriously, “to tell you the truth, I don't think it really matters what it means. If he really lurfed her, he would do something about it and not just sit on his ass while some other guy gets ready to swoop in and show her what lurf really is.”

“What do you know?” sneered Malfoy. “I think you've been sniffing dragon dung for too long.”

“Maybe,” said Charlie, not at all affected by Malfoy's insult. “Or maybe, I'm interested in being that other guy. You know, the one that does the swooping.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Fred indignantly. “I had dibs first. If there is any swooping to be done, I will be the swooper.”

“Stay away from her,” growled Malfoy, ignoring Fred and glaring at Charlie.

“Why? Because you lurf her?” asked Charlie sarcastically.

“She doesn't want you,” Malfoy said in a dangerously low voice.

“How do you know what she wants?” asked Charlie. “Maybe she just isn't aware she has options at the moment.”

Malfoy laughed harshly in response. “You really don't know her, do you? She's had nothing but options lately.”

That was it. Having had enough of this nonsense, Hermione banged her hands on the table causing all of the China to rattle. “Fuck off, Malfoy. This conversation is over. It doesn't matter if you lurf me or not because, whatever the hell it means, I do not lurf you back!” she said angrily, scooting back her chair noisily and stomping out of the room.

“Nice going, asshole,” said Ginny, glaring at Malfoy and getting up to follow Hermione upstairs.

Silence followed their departure. Unused to quiet in the Weasley household, Mrs. Weasley felt compelled to say something. Holding up a plate, she said, “More sausages anyone?”

“I lurf sausages!” exclaimed Ron eagerly through a mouthful of food.

Without a word, George gathered all of the galleons and one by one they passed the money down the line to Harry and Mr. Weasley. Malfoy silently pushed his chair away from the table and stood up straight and tall.

“Mrs. Weasley, thank you for breakfast. Do you mind if I excuse myself? I believe I need to go pack my bags now,” said Malfoy politely if a bit stiffly.

“Of course, dear. You are very welcome. And just remember, lurf conquers all.”

Malfoy noticeably flinched at the word but nodded his head slightly, and with as much dignity as he could, left the room.

“Bloody hell,” said Ron after Malfoy was gone. “I can't believe he actually lurfs her.”

“Even worse, I'm pretty sure she lurfs him back,” added Harry with a sigh.

“At least you got something out of this whole mess,” said Ron, staring jealously at the galleons in Harry's hand.

“Oh, speaking of that,” said Mrs. Weasley, looking at her husband as though she just had a particularly brilliant idea. “I know just what we can do with that extra money. I think I'll go resend that vibrator owl order and get the deluxe turbo model. That way we can really shake things up in the kitchen.”

“Good idea, dear,” replied Mr. Weasley.

“Ugh, I think I just lost my appetite,” said Ron, pushing his plate away.

“Well, I for one am glad to know that sex is still a possibility when you're as old as Mum and Dad,” said George.

“We are not old,” said Mrs. Weasley, glaring at her son.

“Settle down. I'm on your side, Mum. Ronnikins is just too immature to understand that it's perfectly natural for old people to still want to have a spicy sex life.”

“We are not old!” snapped Mrs. Weasley. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have an order to place.”

“I think I'll join you, my dear,” said Mr. Weasley, standing up and giving her a flirtatious wink.

After Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were gone, Fred said, “Well, I'm all for having sex as long as wizardly possible, but I can't say I'm too thrilled to know Mum and Dad are probably doing it in the next room right now.”

“You're not thrilled,” said George sarcastically. “I'm the one that has to go in there and do the dishes.”

“Hope you can do them with your eyes closed,” quipped Fred.

“And your ears shut,” said Ron, cringing after hearing a particularly loud giggle from the next room.

“I suggest a self-induced Conjunctivitis Curse or perhaps some Peruvian Blackness Powder,” said Fred, clapping his twin on the back on his way out the door.

“Bloody hell, aren't you going to even help me clear?” asked George to the now empty room. It appeared that breakfast was finally over. And after all that talk of sex at breakfast, it seemed his parents were the only ones getting some. Bloody hell.

When Ginny opened the door to her bedroom, she found Hermione rummaging violently in her suitcase throwing clothes all over the room. “What are you doing?”

Accentuating each word with a toss of her clothes, Hermione said, “I am looking for my knickers.”

“You lost them again?” asked Ginny with a smirk.

“I didn't lose them,” snapped Hermione. “Someone stole them.”

“Here,” said Ginny, throwing a dress at her that she picked up from the floor. “This looks virginal enough. No one will even know you're not wearing knickers. Unless you want them to that is.”

“Thanks to Malfoy, and you I might add, I now have a reputation for not wearing knickers,” said Hermione, giving up her search in dismay and putting on the flowered sundress. At least this dress covered her ass.

“I didn't make him say all of those dirty things. Although I can't say the outcome wasn't hilarious because it bloody well was. The spell was only supposed to make him share the compliments he most wanted to hide. It's not my fault he's a teenage boy and only has sex on the brain.”

“You're right. Malfoy is a teenage boy. And I am sick of teenage boys. They are a bunch of idiots and nothing but trouble. Completely useless really. I need someone more mature. Maybe I should take Charlie up on his offer,” said Hermione thoughtfully. “I wouldn't mind getting swooped up by him.”

“Don't get me wrong,” said Ginny. “Charlie's a nice guy and all, but he's a bit of a player. He'll certainly make lurf to you, and from what I've heard, he's pretty damn good at it, but he'll never be in lurf with you. Not like Malfoy is anyway.”

“Would you stop saying lurf!” snapped Hermione.

“I can't help it.” Ginny grinned. “It's kind of catchy. And you know it was really love that he was saying, don't you?”

“No, I don't know that. And it really doesn't matter, Ginny, because whatever it was, he obviously didn't want to say it. The idea of saying it to me was so horrible, in fact, that he was able to sink low enough to do a very disgusting impression of Ron. And he hates Ron.”

“Oh, Hermione. All men have trouble with that particular word. You saw how Ron was. He couldn't even say it just to prove a point. It doesn't mean anything.”

“Ginny, Malfoy and I are a bad idea, and you know it. We do nothing but fight and get on each others nerves. It would never work out anyway. What's the point of even thinking about it?”

Ginny's lips curved into a wide smile. “You're just as scared as he is, aren't you? Hermione Granger is a chicken.”

“Do not call me that,” growled Hermione. The egg laying incident was still too fresh in her mind.

“I call it like I see it,” Ginny said with a smirk.

“Oh, yeah? Well, so do I, bitch.”

“Look,” said Ginny. “I may be a bitch, but I really am a romantic. No matter what you call it, you and Malfoy are obviously in love with each other. You can't fight it forever.”

“I beg to differ,” said Hermione drily.

“It's clearly a losing battle. If you continue to fight it like you are now, then you are both going to lose. And I think we both know that neither of you like to lose.”

Hermione let out a sigh. “He's an idiot.”

“Well, you won't get an argument from me there,” replied Ginny. “Speaking of idiots, there are two at the door now.”

“Which ones?”

“What's really sad,” said Ginny, “is that that is a legitimate question.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and opened the door to an angry Harry and Ron.

“What's the big idea?” said Ron, pushing his way in. “You two are in lurf now? How is that even possible?”

“I never said I was in lurf,” snapped Hermione.

“Well, he's in lurf with you. That's bad enough.”

“Ron, we don't even know what lurf is. Knowing Malfoy, it could mean anything.”

Harry and Ron exchanged uncomfortable looks but didn't say anything. The sausages in Ron's stomach weren't setting very well at the moment though.

Not noticing the exchange, Hermione sighed and decided she may as well get this over with. She was going to have to tell them sooner or later. “I know this all looks rather bad, but there really is an explanation for almost everything. I'm working for the Order now. And Malfoy is my first assignment. I have been watching him at Grimmauld Place this summer. It's gotten a little complicated, but I am his babysitter, and that is all.”

“A babysitter with perks.”

“Shut up, Ginny.”

“They asked you to join the Order?” asked Ron incredulously. “Why didn't they ask me? Or Harry?”

“Did you want to babysit Malfoy?” asked Hermione pointedly.

“Hell no,” said Ron quickly.

“Did you want to babysit Malfoy?” Harry perceptively asked Hermione, eyeing her reaction carefully.

“No, certainly not,” insisted Hermione. “He's been nothing but a pain in the ass, to tell you the truth, but I wanted to help.”

“And how exactly is playing house with Malfoy helping?” asked Ron sarcastically.

“Someone had to watch him, Ron. Did you think we could just let him go after the whole incident with Professor Dumbledore?”

“No, but he should be locked up in Azkaban where he belongs, not off having a good old time with you in Grimmauld Place.”

“He didn't kill anyone, Ron. And believe me, we have not been having a good time!”

“Maybe it wasn't his wand that killed him, but he's the one responsible. He let the Death Eaters into the castle. It was all his plan, wasn't it?”

“Yes, but he had to do it. Voldemort threatened him and his family,” reasoned Hermione. It seemed like she had just had this same argument with Remus. She wondered when exactly it was that she had changed sides.

“I can't believe you're making excuses for him, Hermione. He had a choice. He chose to join the Death Eaters.”

“You're right; he did have a choice. But he made the right one. He chose not to kill Professor Dumbledore. And he is not a Death Eater.”

“How do you know?” asked Ron.

“I checked.”

“Maybe...”

“I was very thorough,” interrupted Hermione with finality in her voice.

Ron narrowed his eyes, “Yes, I'm beginning to see that.”

Hermione gritted her teeth. “Look, I don't need a lecture from you, Ronald Weasley. Believe me, I have done some things I am not proud of and would rather forget about, but I take this job very seriously. I've done what I have had to do. It hasn't been fun, but I've done it for the Order. This assignment has been very challenging and...”

“Please. You're a frigging babysitter, Hermione. Let's not glorify it,” said Ron dismissively.

“A babysitter,” echoed Hermione scarily.

“Uh oh,” said Ginny. “I think she's about to blow.”

“A frigging babysitter!” exclaimed Hermione angrily. “I have been through things you have only had nightmares about. I have done research so vile that it would have landed you in St. Mungo's. I have lost more pairs of knickers than you even own. I have been molested by a painting. I have laid fucking eggs!”

“I think she might be having a nervous break down,” said Harry worriedly.

Hermione was nearly hysterical as she recounted her babysitting adventures. “I have been stung by a swarm of bees. I've had a whirlwind destroy my bedroom. I endured dinner and a sex talk with my parents. I have had mashed potatoes thrown in my face. I had the worse case of hiccups imaginable. I've seen Malfoy turn into a unicorn. I've even had to share a bed with the git, and he is a cover hog!”

“Ugh, do you think Malfoy was dressed like a unicorn while they were sharing a bed together?” asked Ron, disturbed but oddly fascinated.

“Shh. This is getting good,” said Ginny.

“I've had to listen to my Mum talk about Malfoy's ass. I've been attacked by Whiz-Bangs. I've been so hungry that I stooped to licking chocolate off of Malfoy's body. I've gotten hickeys in places I don't even want to talk about. I've been a frigging clown. I've fought naked with an owl. I've accidentally posed for porn. And I had yet another horrible experience with Polyjuice.”

“Did it involve a tail this time?” asked Harry, smiling fondly at his remembrance of Hermione the cat girl.

“No, it involved a penis. Any more questions, Harry?” snapped Hermione.

“Um, no,” said Harry uncomfortably. “Not anymore.”

“I have been through just about every humiliating experience you can think of and several you couldn't ever possibly think of. I have been trapped in a house alone with Malfoy for what feels like an eternity. I have put up with his shit day after day. I am not just a frigging babysitter; I am a survivor. And unlike the two of you, who have been sitting on your asses all summer, I have made a difference!”

“I'm sure it was quite unpleasant,” conceded Ron, “but you can hardly call it making a difference. I've accomplished just as much as you just sitting on my ass all summer. All that misery, and what do you have to show for it? Nothing. I hope Malfoy was worth your waste of time.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I found the rest of the Horcruxes,” blurted out Hermione. “What did you find? Not your brain, that's for sure.”

“You found the Horcruxes?” asked Harry incredulously. “Where are they? Have you destroyed them?”

“What are Horcruxes?” asked Ginny.

“Never mind!” exclaimed Hermione, Harry and Ron. Ginny crossed her arms across her chest and sat on her bed pouting. They always excluded her from all the fun.

“I haven't quite figured out how to destroy them yet,” admitted Hermione. “I need some more time. I'm going back to Grimmauld Place now to do some more research.”

“We're going with you,” said Harry.

“I don't think that is such a good idea,” said Hermione. “I don't exactly have them all in my possession yet.”

“Well, where are they?” asked Harry impatiently.

“R.A.B. has them.”

“You found R.A.B.?” he gaped.

“I, um, bumped into him one day,” said Hermione vaguely. ”He kind of hangs around Grimmauld Place.”

“Is he on our side?”

“No, I wouldn't say he is, but he's not on Voldemort's side either. I'm sure of that.”

“Do you trust him?”

“No, definitely not.”

“Hermione, we're coming with you. This could be dangerous.”

“Harry, you can't come. He won't give them to me if you're there. He doesn't like you.”

“But he likes you?” asked Harry.

“Well, he, um...”

“He lusts her,” said Malfoy from the doorway. “To quote the sparkly Weasley twit.”

“Get out,” said Ron rudely. “We're having a private conversation.”

“Gladly,” returned Malfoy just as rudely. “If you actually think I want to be here, you are even stupider than you look. I came here to get Granger, so I could get the hell out of this incestuous rabbit hole.”

“Oh, is it Granger again?” asked Ron mockingly. “Is it only Hermione when you're professing your undying lurf?”

Malfoy scowled at Ron not appreciating the dig. “Not that it's any of your business, Weasel, but I prefer Granger for ordinary use and darling dear for special occasions.” That earned him a glare from Hermione and Ron but for very different reasons.

Having only Horcruxes on the brain, certainly not Malfoy's well being, Harry interrupted before Hermione or Ron could hex Malfoy into oblivion. “Hermione, I still think we should come with you. You might need some protection.”

“Just give her some of those Muggle condom things,” said Malfoy flippantly.

“I'll be fine, Harry,” Hermione promised after glaring at Malfoy once again. “R.A.B. is fairly harmless.”

“Hermione, he had to be close to Voldemort to get that locket and the rest of the Horcruxes,” said Harry. “For all we know, he could be a Death Eater.”

“Well, he was a Death Eater actually, but it's not what you think,” said Hermione quickly.

“Yeah, he was framed.” Malfoy laughed.

“You have to trust me on this, Harry. I can handle it. R.A.B. doesn't want Voldemort to win anymore than we do. I will get the Horcruxes, but you need to give me some more time. You'll ruin everything if you come to Grimmauld Place now.”

“Yeah, like my life,” Malfoy couldn't resist adding.

“Alright, Hermione,” conceded Harry. “I trust you. Do whatever you have to do get those Horcruxes. Just do it quickly.”

“One quickie coming up,” said Malfoy sarcastically.

“I'll try, Harry. But it's tricky. The price to pay may be fairly high. I don't know if...”

“It'll be worth it, Hermione. Just do it, and I'll do the rest.

“A piece of ass for a piece of soul.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” warned Hermione.

“What does he know about it?” asked Ron suspiciously.

“I kind of told him about the Horcruxes,” said Hermione reluctantly.

“You did what!” exclaimed Harry and Ron.

“I can't believe you told the ferret, but you won't tell me,” huffed Ginny.

“I had to. He was there when I was talking to R.A.B., but you don't have to worry about Malfoy. He's on our side whether he likes it or not.”

“Then he better help you get those Horcruxes.”

“Hell no!” exclaimed Malfoy. “I'm not into that kind of thing. Malfoy's do not share.”

“It figures he won't help, the selfish git,” said Ron.

“You two are the selfish gits,” said Malfoy. “You're just going to let her save your ass like she always does no matter what the price.”

“We're all paying a price, Malfoy. This is war,” said Harry.

“Well, you're certainly not paying the price she's obviously willing to pay.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” said Hermione again.

“What are you talking about?” asked Ron, looking back and forth between Hermione and Malfoy.

“Have you even been listening?” asked Malfoy. “He lusts her. His price for the Horcruxes is her virtue, or lack there of. He wants to have sex with her.”

“Is this true, Hermione?” asked Harry.

“Well, it is,” hedged Hermione, “but I'm not actually going to have sex with him. I'll figure something out. I promise.”

“Hermione, I don't think...”

“Harry, it's under control. I won't do anything stupid. I'm Hermione, remember? And besides,” added Hermione sarcastically, “do you really think Malfoy would stand by and let me have sex with someone else when he claims to lurf me?” Hermione said it jokingly, but Harry and Ron felt oddly comforted by it. 

Malfoy was not amused. “Let's go.”

“I'd lurf to,” said Hermione vindictively as she pushed past him through the doorway.

Malfoy glared at her back and was about to stomp off after her when he was roughly pulled back inside the room by his elbow. “What?” he asked exasperatedly.

“Hermione may not know what lurf is, but we do,” said Ron, pointing his wand at Malfoy's chest in an effort to look intimidating.

Malfoy scoffed at him. “Oh, you think your lurf affair with sausages makes you an expert on the matter?” he asked sarcastically.

“Look,” said Harry, clearly sick of Malfoy's crap. “I still don't like you, or trust you for that matter, but I do trust Ginny's spell work, and so I really do believe you... lurf her. Don't let her do anything stupid.” 

“I can't promise anything,” said Malfoy. “She is a Gryffindor. But there's no way in hell I'm going to sit back like you two idiots would and let her have sex with that prick just to save the bloody world. I don't care if he is a relative.”

“R.A.B. is your relative?” asked Harry, but Malfoy was already gone.

Hermione was hugging Mr. and Mrs. Weasley goodbye when Malfoy came downstairs. Mrs. Weasley pulled Malfoy in for a hug as well.

“I'm so happy for the two of you,” said Mrs. Weasley, squeezing them both tightly to her bosom. “It's so nice to have some happy news in such terrible times.”

Er, thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” said Hermione not knowing what else to say.

“You know, Arthur and I were married when we were about your age,” said Mrs. Weasley, releasing them from her embrace and smiling fondly at the two of them.

“Oh, well, we're not getting married,” said Hermione quickly.

“Unless she gets knocked up,” said Malfoy, putting his arm around Hermione's shoulder and smirking at her obnoxiously.

Hermione pushed him off of her and gritting her teeth said, “That will not be happening.”

“Well, You never know, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley. “That's why Arthur and I got married. I was pregnant with Bill. It all worked out for the best, but you can never know too many Contraceptive Spells.”

“Yes, of course,” agreed Hermione, ready for the conversation to be over. “We really do have to go though. Thanks again, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Going so soon?” asked Charlie.

“Yes, well, I have some things to do,” said Hermione vaguely.

“You can say that again,” said Malfoy sarcastically, who earned himself an elbow in the ribs.

“It was good to see you again, Hermione,” said Charlie, taking her hand and kissing it.

“Oh,” said Hermione, her heart racing. “Um, thank you.”

“Always the clever one with words,” mumbled Malfoy at her side.

Charlie, who hadn't let go of Hermione's hand, pulled her in close and whispered in her ear, “And if you ever get tired of him, let me know. I'd be happy to help you forget all about him.” Charlie's lips kissed her ear and then gently brushed her cheek as they found their way to her mouth. His tongue expertly parted her lips and explored her mouth longingly. He didn't rush the kiss. He kept it slow but intense. It was the kiss of a man, and it set her entire body on fire. She had dreamed about this moment ever since she had hit puberty, and Charlie Weasley did not disappoint. As he ended the kiss, he whispered in her other ear, “And if you ever come to Romania, bring your school uniform, and we can make both of our fantasies come true.” 

Before Hermione could answer, or breathe for that matter, Malfoy yanked on her arm and dragged her toward the fireplace.

“Whore,” muttered Malfoy.

“You know I can't help it,” huffed Hermione. “It's this stupid diadem. And I've had a crush on him since I was a young girl. It's only natural that I would be curious.”

“I was talking about him,” said Malfoy, nodding at Charlie. “He's only after one thing, you know.”

“Aren't you all?” asked Hermione, rolling her eyes.

“No,” mumbled Malfoy.

Hermione was about to ask him what he meant by that when she was suddenly assaulted with several kisses to her cheek from Mr. and Mrs. Delacour. They were whispering something to her in French which she didn't quite catch, and Mrs. Delacour pressed a folded up piece of paper into Hermione's hand.

“Merci,” said Hermione because she didn't know what else to say. She had no idea what they had just said to her. The Delacours smiled at her, kissed her on the cheek several more times and then left the room. Hermione looked after them quizzically but was even more puzzled by Malfoy's expression. “What are you smiling about?”

“I told you I knew some French.” 

“But I thought you only knew... Oh, shit,” said Hermione, looking down suddenly and opening the note.

“What is it?” asked Malfoy.

“Their address,” muttered Hermione, her cheeks heating up.

Malfoy started laughing. “We better get that diadem off of you before you take them up on their generous offer.” 

“I don't think Voldemort's that powerful.”

“Still, I wouldn't do any Apparating while you're drunk. You might find yourself in an awkward position in more ways than one.”

“Please. If I was really interested in finding out what it would be like to be in a threesome, I would look up Fred and George.”

“Did we hear our names?” asked Fred.

“And was it in a sexual context?” asked George.

“Never mind,” said Hermione. “We have to go.”

“No kiss goodbye?” asked Fred, batting his multicolored lashes at her. 

“No.”

“Maybe later,” said George, grinning.

“I don't think so,” said Hermione.

“Maybe sooner rather than later,” said Fred, giving her an identical grin.

“Goodbye, Fred. Goodbye, George,” said Hermione, stepping into the fireplace.

“Meet you back at Grimmauld Place,” called George.

Hermione froze in her tracks and slowly turned around. “What?”

“Nargles, remember?”

“You're still coming to Grimmauld Place?”

“Of course,” said Fred. “You didn't think a little thing like lurf was going to stand in our way, now did you? We don't give up that easily.” 

“First, we have to do a few errands in Diagon Alley,” continued George. “It seems we are in need of some new clothes. And of course, we have to pick up our other supplies.”

“What other supplies?” asked Hermione a bit fearfully.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” asked Fred, raising his eyebrows up and down.

Come on, Malfoy,” said Hermione, yanking him into the fireplace. “We have to go. Now.”

“We'll see you two lurf birds later,” said George.

“Fuck off,” answered Malfoy, giving him the finger as he Flooed away with Hermione.

As soon as they tumbled into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, Hermione pointed her finger at the door and said, “Go to your room.”

“You can't boss me around.”

“I'm the fucking babysitter. Of course, I can!”

“I don't want to,” said Malfoy stubbornly.

Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself. “I don't think you understand the seriousness of this, Malfoy.”

“If this is about what I said...”

This has nothing to do with lurf, Malfoy. We will discuss that later. Or maybe never. I haven't quite decided. This has to do with supplies. Did you not hear that the Weasley twins are bringing supplies?”

“Oh,” said Malfoy, the dread finally sinking in. “Ohhh.”

“Go to your room and get your purple box. Grab anything you can to defend yourself and barricade your door. This is war.”

“Before I go. I just want to say one thing,” said Malfoy seriously.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat and her heart started pounding in her chest. Maybe Ginny was right. Maybe she was just a little bit chicken. “Yes?”

“I command you to serve under me in this war against the Weasley twins.”

“What?” asked Hermione, completely baffled. Once again, that was not what she had been expecting him to say.

“My command from the bet I won. I'm enacting it now. I order you to serve under my command and help me fight against against the Weasley twins.”

Hermione scowled at him. “Fine! Just go get your fucking box!”

“You're under me, Granger. I'm the one who gets to give the orders here.”

“Then order yourself upstairs to go get your fucking box! Now!”

“Alright, alright! But only because I want to, and it's the strategic thing to do. We'll deal with your insubordination later.”

“Out!”

Hermione ran up the stairs after him and went into her room to find her own purple box. She couldn't say she was necessarily very happy about having to be under Malfoy's command, but it was probably better if her and Malfoy stuck together anyway. It was her job to protect him after all, and this way she wouldn't be indebted to him anymore. His command could have been much worse she supposed. And if he was too abusive with his power, she always had her command to fall back on from the sucker bet she had tricked Malfoy into. Besides, it's not like it made a difference which side she was on. Had she chosen to fight on the Weasley twins' side, the friendly fire would have probably been unbearable. Hermione got down on her hands and knees and reached her arm way under the bed trying to locate her purple box.

“I've missed this view,” said a voice from behind her.

Startled, Hermione banged her head on the bed and then turned around to glare at Regulus.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” he asked, smirking at her.

“More like annoyed me,” she returned sarcastically. “You certainly don't scare me.”

“Of course I don't, my brave little Gryffindor. So, tell me. How was the wedding? Did you have... fun?”

“Take it off,” said Hermione, walking toward him with her wand drawn.

“Well, I usually like to play the dominant role, but I suppose I could be a submissive for you,” said Regulus with a wink. “Should I take it all off or leave something for you to remove. Preferably with your teeth.”

“Take off the diadem. Now!”

“Why? Is it making you feel... naughty?”

Hermione felt the blush spreading across her cheeks before she could stop it.

“I knew it,” said Regulus with a smug expression on his face. “Isn't it funny how that broken demented soul could turn the Dark Lord into a hate-filled, power hungry monster and yet it turns you into a lust-filled, sex addicted vixen.”

“I wouldn't say it's funny,” said Hermione, scowling at him.

“So, were you able to fight it? Or did you give in?”

“I did not give in,” she declared adamantly. Well, she hadn't totally.

“I was counting on your stubbornness,” said Regulus, smiling wickedly. “Of course, it must be almost unbearable now. The passion, the longing, the tingling sensations. Would you like me to help you take the edge off? I would be happy to oblige you.” 

“I'm fine, thank you,” replied Hermione defiantly.

“Oh,” said Regulus clearly disappointed. “I see someone already helped you take the edge off. Malfoy, I presume?”

“It's none of your business. Just take the diadem off.”

“Did you have sex with him?”

“No!” exclaimed Hermione defensively.

“Then I don't think I'll take it off.”

“What!” gasped Hermione.

“If you didn't have sex with him, the game is still on.”

“The game? You're playing a fucking game!”

“I'm a fucking painting. I hang on the wall. I need something to entertain me.”

“I am not here for your amusement, Regulus.”

“And yet you are so amusing.” He smirked.

Regulus was so damn frustrating. Too bad, he was so damn sexy at the same time. “What do you want, Regulus?”

“Sex.”

“Try again.”

“Stimulation.”

“We could discuss books.”

“I think not.”

“I'm not doing anything sexual with you.”

“We'll see. I can be quite irresistible.”

“And I can be quite stubborn.”

“I like a challenge. And the odds are in my favor,” said Regulus, looking at the diadem still on her head.

“Who says the odds will go in your favor?”

“Oh, did Malfoy finally get his head out of his ass?” asked Regulus with interest.

“Well, he got it halfway out, I suppose,” admitted Hermione.

“What happened? Was it something naughty?”

“If I tell you, will you take the diadem off?”

“No, but I might let you get your hands on one of the other Horcruxes.”

The shower incident flashed through her mind as well as the many various snogging sessions and other unspeakable activities they had participated in. Not bothering to look at Regulus, Hermione said, “Malfoy told me he lurfs me.” There was really no sense mentioning that other stuff.

Regulus burst out laughing. “That was totally worth a Horcrux.”

“Well, hand it over then,” demanded Hermione bossily, holding out her hand for emphasis.

“Did you really think I was just going to give it to you?” asked Regulus condescendingly. “Where is the fun in that? You'll have to use that clever brain of yours and find it.”

Hermione immediately started looking around.

“Not now,” said Regulus, clearly amused. “At the Hunt.”

“The Hunt?” asked Hermione warily.

“I'm organizing a Horcrux Hunt. Kind of like an Easter Egg Hunt only with Horcruxes and other dangerous objects. It's going to be such fun.”

“Indeed,” said Hermione drily. “And when exactly is this 'fun' Horcrux Hunt going to be held?”

“As soon as you earn the right to look for all of the Horcruxes.”

“And how do I do that?” asked Hermione, her courage waning slightly.

“I don't know. Let's be creative,” said Regulus, smiling at her wickedly.

Hermione sighed. She had a feeling she was going to have to go against Harry's wishes and do something stupid after all. She knew Harry would be very angry if he ever found out, but she couldn't help wondering how Malfoy would feel. “Alright,” said Hermione grudgingly. “I'll think about it.”

Taking that for acceptance, Regulus held out his hand and said, “Then let's shake on it.”

“You want to shake hands?” asked Hermione skeptically.

“Would you rather shake something else?” asked Regulus suggestively.

“No.”

“You're not scared to shake hands, are you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then pull up a chair and shake.”

“Alright,” Hermione agreed, pulling up a chair next to him. What harm could a handshake do?

Hermione tentatively climbed up on the chair and held out her hand but instead of shaking it, Regulus bent down and kissed her hand. His lips were like velvet. Hermione should have jerked her hand away. That would have been the sensible thing to do. It was very hard to be sensible with Regulus around though. She watched with half closed eyes as he worked his way up her arm pulling her closer and closer with each kiss. Before she knew it, his lips were only a breath away from hers. She only had to lean in slightly, and she would once again feel that velvety softness brush across her lips. She was about to press her lips to his when she felt his hand on her ass. Her bare ass. She glared at him.

Looking at her sheepishly, he shrugged and said, “Just curious.”

“I should get a Horcrux for that,” muttered Hermione, getting off the chair.

“Don't you even feel sorry for me? I was lonely while you were gone.”

“I should have been so lucky,” said Hermione unsympathetically.

“So, Malfoy is in lurf with you, huh?” said Regulus thoughtfully.

“Apparently.”

“What does this mean for us?”

“There is no 'us'. And it doesn't mean anything. Nothing has changed.”

“Did you want it to?”

Hermione shrugged noncommittally.

“You lurf him back, don't you?”

“I most certainly do not,” said Hermione heatedly. 

“You do. You lurf him.”

“Lurf isn't even a frigging word!”

“Would you like me to use the other 'L' word? The one we are purposely avoiding right now.”

“Malfoy is arrogant, selfish, mean, disagreeable and he smirks way too much, not to mention the fact that he is a Slytherin and annoys the hell out of me. I can barely tolerate being in the same room with him without hexing the shit out of him. The only 'L' word that comes to mind at the moment is ludicrous because that is exactly what it would be.”

“Too true,” agreed Regulus and then he grinned mischievously at her. “So, you want to make him jealous?” 

Hermione stared at Regulus for a moment as if he were crazy. Regulus obviously had ulterior motives here. It was a completely stupid idea. Something a horny, idiotic painting would come up with. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she shook her head slowly back and forth and then heard herself say, “Okay.”


	48. Regarding Regulus

“So, you want to kiss on it?” asked Regulus, smiling mischievously down at her.

“No!” exclaimed Hermione, suddenly coming to her senses. “I don't even know why I just agreed to that. It's a completely stupid idea. Why would I even want to make Malfoy jealous?”

“I don't know. Why would you?” asked Regulus, smirking.

“I wouldn't,” she replied firmly as though what she was really trying to do was convince herself. “I have absolutely no interest in making him jealous. He's a complete prat.”

“He's coming.”

“What?”

“He's coming. He'll be here any minute. Quick. Get up here and kiss me,” ordered Regulus.

“No,” replied Hermione with determination in her voice. “I most certainly will not kiss you. I...” Despite her almost adamant refusal to partake in such a ridiculous scheme, at the sound of the door knob starting to turn, Hermione Granger panicked. Flying up onto the chair, she threw her arms around Regulus's neck, slamming into him so hard that she would have knocked the breath out of him if he had in fact been breathing. Lucky for him, he was a frigging painting. 

Taking only a second to send her a fleeting triumphant smirk, Regulus wrapped his arms around her possessively and began kissing her thoroughly enough to take her breath away. The kiss was so consuming that she almost forgot the reason why she was kissing Regulus in the first place. Almost. After a while, the violent shaking of the door knob, accompanied almost immediately by the fierce banging on the door was slightly distracting and a bit of a mood killer. It seemed Malfoy was not to be forgotten. Not breaking the kiss, Hermione pointed her wand behind her and opened the door.

“What the fuck!” exclaimed Malfoy angrily from the doorway, glaring intently at the appalling sight before him.

Completely ignoring him, Hermione put even more enthusiasm into kissing Regulus, whom she had to admit was very responsive for a painting of a dead guy. Despite the fact that she really didn't want to, Hermione couldn't help but enjoy the kiss. She always had been a big fan of art, and Regulus was certainly a piece of work that positively oozed talent. In fact, he had pretty much nailed down the art of kissing, and she was pretty sure if she let him nail her, he would be pretty damn good at that as well. She was a little annoyed that Regulus's hand had found its way back under her dress again but her feminine intuition told her she should hold the kiss just a little bit longer. Of course, her feminine intuition was a bit of a slut at the moment and was more than likely being controlled by an evil, horny diadem. 

Her good old dependable brain, which had never failed her before, was telling her she was crazy and should pull out now (while she still had a little self respect left) and maybe even slap Regulus hard across his perfectly painted cheek. However, before she could pull out of the kiss or perform any violent acts of vandalism, Hermione found herself being roughly yanked off the chair and into the angry arms of a scowling, very jealous looking Malfoy. Hmmm. Perhaps her slutty feminine intuition had a point after all.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” he asked angrily, still holding her tightly in his arms.

“I was, uh, just saying hi to Regulus. He was, um, welcoming me back,” she stammered, flushing a little guiltily. Malfoy looked really angry. His white face appeared to be even whiter than normal if that was possible. 

“You're trying to get the Horcruxes, aren't you?” accused Malfoy.

Horcruxes? Hermione looked at Malfoy blankly for a moment until it finally hit her and she gasped, “The Horcruxes! Yes, that is exactly what I am doing.” Because that made so much more sense than what she was really doing. Fuck. What was she thinking? She had forgotten all about those stupid Horcruxes. When did making Malfoy jealous become more important to her than getting her hands on the Horcruxes and saving the world? Frigging teenage hormones.

“I won't let you do it,” Malfoy declared.

“You won't?” asked Hermione, for once not upset that he was telling her what to do. 

“No, I won't,” replied Malfoy fiercely.

“Why not?” Hermione couldn't help asking. She was a girl after all.

Malfoy silently stared back at her as though he had absolutely no idea how to answer that question. That was obviously the wrong answer.

“Why do you even care what I do with Regulus?” prodded Hermione, finally pushing him away from her. She didn't care how nice his arms felt around her, the whole dumb blond thing wasn't really doing it for her at the moment.

“I never said I did care,” returned Malfoy, not looking at her.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Well, if you really don't care, then I don't see how it's is any of your business what I do.” 

“You're being stupid,” he said, glaring at her.

“Excuse me?” He did not just call her stupid.

“You heard me. You're being stupid. You're plan is stupid.”

“How do you know it's stupid?” asked Hermione offended. “You don't even know what I'm planning to do yet.” Unfortunately, neither did she.

“It's fairly obvious. You're going to shag him. A frigging painting! It's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. And you're just doing it to save the world. It's not like you love him or anything.”

Hermione had been about to laugh in his face. As if she was really going to shag Regulus. Kiss him, maybe. Perhaps even a harmless little grope here and there wasn't completely out of the question. But she was definitely not going to shag him. She wasn't the smartest witch of her age for nothing. She could come up with a much more clever plan than that. And she would have told Malfoy that. Really she would have. But then he had to go and bring love into it. She was still a little sore about the whole lurf thing from breakfast. How dare Malfoy talk about love? To her of all people. As if he knew anything about it. 

And who was he to tell her what she could or couldn't do? He just told her he didn't care what she did. He basically said he didn't care about her. Well, that's what she heard anyway. The more she thought of it, the madder she got. Hermione's anger was now to the point that it didn't matter what insane thing came out of her mouth just so long as she was not in agreement with Malfoy. Unfortunately, she now found herself in the ridiculous predicament of defending the stupidest plan she had ever heard of. Shagging Regulus indeed! Merlin help her. “What does it matter if I love him or not?” asked Hermione stubbornly. “Were you in love with all of the girls you've ever shagged?”

“Hell, no. I don't even remember all of their names,” replied Malfoy as though that were something to be proud of. Boys.

“Then what is the difference? Besides the fact that I would be doing it to save the world and you were just doing it to get yourself off and save your hand some work,” Hermione retorted sarcastically.

“The difference is that it makes you a whore.”

Hermione eyes widened at the word “whore”. It echoed loudly in her head. She did not like that particular word, especially when used in reference to herself. She scowled at Malfoy in response.

“It's true,” Malfoy persisted. “You're a whore if go through with this stupid plan of yours.”

For the record, this was not her stupid plan. However, she was not backing down now. “At least I know Regulus's name. You're just being sexist.”

“No, I'm not. I was having sex for fun. You want to use sex as part of a transaction. That would make you a whore. Feel free to grab one of your precious books and look up the definition if you like.”

Hermione had nothing to say to that because what he was saying was absolutely true. Damn. She had completely backed herself into a corner. A corner she may as well be standing on wearing a slutty outfit borrowed from Lavender Brown. The thought of anyone, even Malfoy, thinking she was a whore was making her sick to her stomach. However, the thought of having to admit defeat to Malfoy left a very bad taste in her mouth. She wasn't sure which was worse. It was a tough call really.

“Having sex with me would be fun,” interrupted Regulus from the wall. “Very fun. And colorful.”

“She is not going to have sex with you,” growled Malfoy. “You are a fucking painting. And a really annoying one at that. She probably doesn't even like you.”

“Maybe she lurfs me,” replied Regulus with a smirk.

“You told him!” Malfoy fumed, turning glowering eyes on Hermione.

“It may have slipped out,” admitted Hermione, shrugging and not making eye contact. She may have felt a little guilty about telling Regulus about the whole lurf thing, but it was buried fairly deep under all of her anger.

“I think it's sweet,” said Regulus mockingly to Malfoy. ”Too bad she doesn't lurf you back.”

“You shut up,” said Malfoy, pointing at Regulus before turning back to Hermione. “And you are forbidden to have sex with him.”

“Says who?” asked Hermione, glaring at Malfoy. She was back to not liking him telling her what to do.

“Your commander, that's who.”

“You can't command me not to have sex with him!” scoffed Hermione.

“Yes, I can,” stated Malfoy authoritatively. “Your having sex would distract you from protecting me from the Weasley twins. Therefore, I command you not to have sex.”

“I told you that your command couldn't be anything sexual!”

“And how exactly is my commanding you not to have sex sexual?”

“Well, it has to do with sex, doesn't it?” said Hermione stubbornly.

“Yeah, not having it,” he returned sarcastically.

“Fine!” snapped Hermione. “I won't have sex. For twenty-four hours,” she added spitefully.

“What!”

“Your command only lasts for twenty-four hours, Malfoy. When that time is up, I can do whatever and whoever the hell I want!”

“So, you're going to fuck a painting in exchange for a few fucking Horcruxes?”

“No, she's going to fuck a painting so that she can earn the right to look for a few fucking Horcruxes,” corrected Regulus with a smug smile.

“He's not even going to give them to you!”

“Regulus, you are not helping,” said Hermione through clenched teeth. “Malfoy, I have this under control.”

“Really?” replied Malfoy sarcastically. “Because it seems to me that your skills of negotiation completely suck. You are having sex with him, and you are not even getting anything out of it.”

“I wouldn't say that,” said Regulus, smiling wickedly.

“Maybe I have feelings for him,” said Hermione, unable to think of anything else to say. She couldn't bring herself to tell Malfoy that she wasn't actually planning on having sex with Regulus. It would be like handing victory to Malfoy on a silver platter. But she certainly didn't want him thinking she was a whore or worse... stupid.

“What!” 

Malfoy was livid. Perhaps it would have been better if she let him think she was a whore. Too late now though.”I have feelings for Regulus,” she said a bit more confidently.

“I knew it,” said Regulus smugly.

Malfoy, however, didn't say anything. He didn't even look at her. He silently walked out the door and then slammed it shut behind him.

Hermione stared at the closed door in shock. She hadn't quite been expecting that kind of response. She thought he would yell at her, or beat the crap out of Regulus. Or maybe even kiss her. Not leave.

“So, you want to go back to my room?” asked Regulus, his voice dripping sex.

“I am not having sex with you,” said Hermione, still looking at the door.

“Then why did you say you were going to?”

“Because Malfoy made me mad.”

“He always makes you mad. I guess it's pretty much guaranteed that I'm going to get laid. I knew you wanted me. And who can blame you? I'm devastatingly handsome and utterly charming. A Mudblood like you would be lucky to have me.”

Hermione scowled at the Mudblood comment. “I don't want you, Regulus. And I certainly don't find you or your stupid little comments charming.”

“Ah, but you do find me devastatingly handsome.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You didn't not say that.” Regulus smirked.

“The more you talk, the less I like you. It's bordering on pure loathing at the moment.”

“I would believe that, but you already admitted that you have feelings for me.”

“Yeah, negative ones,” she said sarcastically.

“Oh, I'm so devastated,” returned Regulus just as sarcastically. “Luckily a good shag doesn't require love or lurf or whatever the hell you kids are calling it these days.”

“I am not shagging you!”

“Is it because of him?”

“No!” she answered rather quickly, unconsciously looking over at the door.

“Well, I know it's not because of me. It's obvious that you're attracted to me.”

“I am not,” replied Hermione as though that were completely ridiculous.

“You are, too.”

“I am not,” huffed Hermione.

“Prove it. Prove that you're not attracted to me.”

“I don't have to prove anything. I think my loathing of you is fairly apparent.”

“How about I prove it then? It'll be easy. All I have to do is touch you, and you're all over me. I'll barely have to lift a finger,” he bragged.

“That is not true!”

“Just the feel of my lips on yours makes you wet with desire.”

“You are a liar.”

“Am I? Or did I just win this silly little argument,” asked Regulus, sliding his finger into his mouth and drawing it out slowly. “Funny, it certainly tastes like the sweet taste of victory or perhaps I should say the sweet taste of Hermione.”

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she watched his finger slowly slide in and out of his mouth. She was going to kill whoever stole her knickers.

“Imagine what would happen if my lips kissed you other more... intimate places,” he said seductively. “Shall I tell you where I'd like to kiss you?”

“Stop,” whispered Hermione, running her fingers through her hair distractedly. His words were like silk, and they were doing funny things to her. Funny tingly things.

“Imagine what it would feel like to have me inside of you. If you think my lips feel like smooth velvet, you haven't felt anything yet. I could please you over and over and over again. All you have to do is come back to my room.”

“Stop,” said Hermione a little more firmly, trying to control her breathing. Unfortunately, she had a very vivid imagination and Regulus's incessant sexual prattle was really turning her on. If she wasn't careful, she was going to find out just how colorful sex could be with Regulus.

“You want me right now, don't you?” he asked, suggestively licking his lips.

“Yes. No! I mean, it has nothing to do with you. It's just this stupid diadem,” insisted Hermione, tugging on it uselessly.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Just stop talking.”

“You know, if you kissed me, it would take away some of the need you're feeling.”

“You are not tricking me again.”

“Do I scare you? There are no annoying interruptions now. Afraid you couldn't stop with just a kiss?”

“Of course not.”

“Then kiss me.”

Hermione hesitated a moment. She so did not want to kiss Regulus and at the same time she so did. For some reason, the desire that was building up inside of her was so overwhelming, she could hardly think properly. The diadem must be getting stronger. Perhaps he was right about the kissing. After all, she had done an awful lot of kissing at the Burrow, and it had helped curb the desire somewhat. She hadn't done anything too crazy. Well, besides what she had done with Malfoy. Unfortunately, she had a funny feeling that that little transgression had nothing to do with the diadem. Best not to think about that now though. It was definitely not helping her current situation. All she could think about was sex. This must be what it's like to be a teenage boy. She really thought she might die if she didn't get some soon.

“Come on, Hermione. Let me kiss it and make it all better,” Regulus purred.

Hermione closed her eyes. She should just get it over with. It seemed she was out of options. “No touching. Just a kiss.”

“No touching,” repeated Regulus, crossing his finger over his chest. “Unless you beg me to.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and stepped up on the chair. “Let's just get this over with.”

“You're so romantic,” said Regulus sarcastically.

“Just shut up and kiss me.” 

“Ooh, that's more like it. I like me a bossy lover.”

“If you don't shut up, I'm going to punch you and knock you right out of your gilded frame.”

“A little foreplay, huh. How did you know I like it rough?”

“Regulus, I swear. If you don't shut up, I'm going to...”

“What? Kiss me? I think we've already established that.”

“Aargh! You are so annoying!”

“And yet now you really want to fuck me, don't you?”

“Yes!”

“Beg me.”

“What?”

“Beg me.”

“No! Just because I want to fuck you because of this stupid diadem doesn't mean I am going to. And even if I was going to, which I am not, I most certainly wouldn't ever beg for it.”

“I was talking about the kiss. If you want me to kiss you, you're going to have to beg for it.”

“But you already told me you were going to kiss me,” said Hermione, trying not to show the desperation in her voice.

“And I will. After you beg for it.”

Hermione glared at Regulus. This was so humiliating. She was actually contemplating begging him to kiss her. Her stubbornness was the only thing that kept her from throwing herself on his mercy or lack there of. 

“I'm waiting,” said, Regulus, smirking at her.

He was enjoying her discomfort way too much. Fucking sadistic Slytherins. “I...” Shit. Hermione didn't know how to finish that sentence. How the fuck did you beg someone to kiss you without degrading yourself too much? She was about to throw her pride out the window and try again when she heard a loud crash behind her.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” said Malfoy, glaring up at her.

“Malfoy? What are you doing here?” asked Hermione, surprised to see him again so soon.

“I think the question is, what are you doing here?” replied Malfoy angrily.

“I...” Hermione couldn't help looking at Regulus, who was smirking at her, silently daring her to tell Malfoy what exactly it was that she was doing. And as Regulus well knew, that wasn't something she particularly wanted to put into words. Of course, it wasn't really something that she needed to put into words, now was it? Hermione surprised Regulus by returning his smirk. “Nothing. I'm doing absolutely nothing.”

“If you think this annoying interruption is going to help you with your little problem, then you are sadly mistaken.”

“No, Regulus, you are sadly mistaken. This little interruption, annoying or not, is exactly what I needed to solve my little problem,” said Hermione with a predatory smile. Without another word, she hopped off the chair and lunged at Malfoy.

Malfoy, caught off guard, stumbled over something and fell backward to the floor. Hermione landed hard on top of him and before he could say anything stupid, she kissed him passionately. She put both of her hands on his cheeks and held onto his face until he started kissing her back properly. Before long, his arms circled around her and held her tight while their tongues frantically explored each others mouths. Malfoy's hands had just started to roam a little lower when they both heard a throat clearing behind them. Malfoy was determined to ignore it, but Hermione broke away from the kiss to stare up triumphantly at Regulus.

“I think that ought to do it,” he grumbled from the wall.

“You were right, Regulus” said Hermione happily, still straddling Malfoy. “I feel so much better.”


	49. Annoying Answers

“What the hell was that?” asked Malfoy, wiping his mouth and looking suspiciously back and forth between Hermione and Regulus.

Regulus grumbled something unintelligible that didn't sound very nice and disappeared, leaving an empty frame behind.

“It's called a kiss, Malfoy,” replied Hermione somewhat snottily. “Some questions really are stupid, you know.”

“I know what it was,” said Malfoy, scowling at her. “I want to know why the hell you did it.”

“Then why didn't you ask that it the first place?” asked Hermione, being difficult on purpose.

“I did!”

“You didn't,” argued Hermione obstinately.

“Whatever,” huffed Malfoy. “Are you going to answer my question or not?”

“And which question was that?” asked Hermione, trying not to smirk too much as she watched his face contort. She rather enjoyed making Malfoy angry. And while the kiss was incredible, it wasn't quite enough for her to forgive and forget everything he had ever done to her. Hermione was stubborn like that.

“Why the fuck did you just kiss me?” asked Malfoy, trying to hold his temper.

“Because,” replied Hermione as though it were completely obvious, “I didn't want to kiss Regulus.” 

“What the hell kind of answer is that?” exploded Malfoy. “That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard of. Excluding everything Weasley's ever said of course.”

“You wouldn't think it was so dumb if you knew how big of an ass Regulus was being.”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “What's the real reason you kissed me?”

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. He was really annoying her. Why should she confess everything to him when he couldn't confess anything to her? Even when he was under a frigging spell. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. “I don't know, Malfoy. Maybe I wanted to show my appreciation for all the lurf you've shown me,” she said sarcastically. She just couldn't let that particular incident go.

“Fuck off, Granger,” he said, pushing her off of him and onto the floor.

“Ow!” she exclaimed, banging her elbow on something hard. “What the hell is all of this stuff?”

“My things,” Malfoy returned calmly.

“Your things!” answered Hermione shrilly, looking around at what seemed to be all of Malfoy's belongings littering her bedroom floor.

It was Malfoy's turn to smirk. “Yes, my things.” 

“And what are 'your' things doing in 'my' room?” asked Hermione hardly able to hold her temper in check.

Malfoy's eyes twinkled evilly. “I'm moving in.”

“What!” screeched Hermione, completely losing it.

“I said, I'm moving in,” said Malfoy a bit more loudly, tugging on Hermione's ear. “Perhaps you ought to get your ears checked.”

Hermione swatted his hand away. “I heard you,” she growled. “I was just expressing my extreme displeasure over the matter.”

“Funny, it sounded more like a question.”

“It wasn't.”

“I think if you look up the definition of the word...”

“Fine,” snapped Hermione. “Here's a question for you. Why the hell would you even want to move into my room?”

“I don't want to.”

“But you just said you did,” said Hermione exasperatedly.

“No, I didn't.”

“Yes, you did!”

“I only said I was moving in. I never said I wanted to.”

“Malfoy, you're really starting to piss me off.”

“Just starting to? Pity. And I've been working so hard at it.”

“Yeah, right,” she said sarcastically. “I think we both know it comes naturally to you.”

“I am rather talented,” he boasted.

Hermione took a deep breath and tried to control her temper. “Malfoy, why do you seem to think that you are moving into my room?”

“I don't think. I know.”

“Just answer my question!”

“I thought I did.”

“Why the fuck are you moving into my room!”

“Well, why didn't you just ask that it the first place?” asked Malfoy, echoing what Hermione had said to him earlier.

“I did!”

“You didn't.”

“Whatever. Just answer my question,” snapped Hermione. She knew she kind of deserved this, but that didn't make it anymore palatable. 

“What was the question again?”

“Malfoy!”

“Alright, alright. But to repeat what you said, some questions really are stupid, you know.”

“My question is not stupid,” said Hermione indignantly.

“It is.”

“Not,” added Hermione childishly.

“Well, it's rather obvious anyway,” said Malfoy, rolling his eyes. “I should think the so called smartest witch of the age would be able to at least make an educated guess at it.”

That sounded like a challenge, and Hermione did not back down from challenges. Unfortunately, she could only think of one reason why Malfoy would want to move into her room at the moment, and it was perhaps more because of certain things she had on her mind than because of her excellent deductive reasoning skills. “You want to have sex with me?” she asked somewhat hesitantly.

“No!” scoffed Malfoy.

“So you're saying that you don't want to have sex with me?” Hermione asked skeptically. That seemed unlikely. He was a teenage boy after all. Why wouldn't he want to have sex with her? Was there something wrong with her? Was there something wrong with him? “You really don't want to have sex with me?” she couldn't help asking again.

“I didn't say that!”

“So you do?” she pressed. For some reason, she needed to know.

Malfoy looked confused. “I'm not sure how to answer that.”

“Well, do you or don't you?” she asked impatiently. “I don't have all day. The Weasley twins are coming.”

“Exactly! That's why... Hey, did you just offer to have sex with me?” 

“I most certainly did not,” she said, looking horrified by the possibility.

“You did!”

“I didn't.”

“It sounded like an offer,” said Malfoy conceitedly.

Hermione willed herself not to turn too red. “It was a perfectly logical guess as to why you would want to move in with me.” 

“It was a wrong guess.”

“Well, you didn't seem so sure about it before,” pointed out Hermione stubbornly.

“I wasn't unsure about your guess being wrong. I was unsure about the whole sex part.”

“So, you are unsure of sex?” asked Hermione, a smile creeping on her face. He stepped right into that one.

“No!”

“Because that doesn't sound like the so called Slytherin sex god. Are you sure that's not really Goyle's title?” Hermione couldn't resist turning the knife just a little. Okay, a lot.

“No! It's my title,” growled Malfoy possessively, giving her an angry look. “My title!” Fucking Goyle.

“If you say so,” Hermione said as though she really didn't believe him.

“Would you like me to prove it to you?” Malfoy challenged.

“No thank you,” she answered primly, crossing her arms across her chest.

“So you don't want to have sex with me?” asked Malfoy just as skeptically.

“Of course not.”

Malfoy looked as though he didn't believe her. “Then why did you sexually assault me before?”

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. “It was just a kiss, Malfoy. It could hardly be considered assault.”

“I banged my head on the floor,” said Malfoy, rubbing the back of his head for effect. “I may even have a concussion.”

“If you do have a concussion, which I doubt, it's only because you tripped over all of your crap,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes unsympathetically. “And speaking of your crap, get it out of my room. Now.”

“No.”

“Then I'll remove it for you,” said Hermione, raising her wand.

“Oh no you don't,” said Malfoy, tackling her and knocking her backwards.

“Get off me!” she shouted angrily, squirming underneath him and trying to raise her wand.

“Did you just say, get me off? Because we are in a good position for that,” said Malfoy, grinding his hips into her.

“Oh,” gasped Hermione. “Stop that.”

“Why? Is it turning you on?” asked Malfoy sarcastically.

“Yes!”

“It is?” asked Malfoy incredulously. He usually had to work a little harder than that. Contrary to popular belief, living up to his sex god title did require some effort on his part.

Hermione bucked her hips into him in response.

“Interesting.”

“You think it's interesting!” snapped Hermione, unable to stop pressing herself into Malfoy. It was so embarrassing, but it felt so good.

“Well, it certainly isn't uninteresting,” replied Malfoy, starting to get hard.

“Malfoy, just shut up and kiss me.”

“What!”

“You heard me. Kiss me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because otherwise I am probably going to end up having sex with you.”

That gave Malfoy pause. He had to think about that for a moment. “I'm not sure that's a good enough reason,” he said after a while.

“Malfoy! Just fucking kiss me already,” shouted Hermione impatiently.

“You sure are bossy when you want to be kissed,” observed Malfoy.

“I don't want to be kissed. I need to be kissed. Now.”

“Is this about the diadem?” asked Malfoy, finally getting a clue.

“Yes, you idiot. Now kiss me already.”

“That line may work on the Weasel, but you need to work a little harder at wooing me,” said Malfoy, playing hard to get.

Hermione grabbed onto little Draco and squeezed. Hard. “There, how's that for wooing? It certainly feels hard enough to me.”

Malfoy let out a little groan.”Yeah, that's pretty good,” he choked out before caving into her demand and leaning down to kiss her.

Hermione sighed into the kiss. She felt instant relief and something else she wasn't quite prepared to think about yet. Luckily, she didn't need to think about anything. She just had to feel. Because for once in his life, Malfoy was doing all of the work. And he was pretty damn good at it too. She should have stopped the kiss then and there, but Malfoy knew just how to kiss her and just where to touch her to make her burn with desire for him. This desire, however, was quite different than the desire the diadem caused inside of her. It was... nice. And it was getting nicer. Malfoy seemed to have picked up the kiss where they had left off because it intensified quickly. He soon moved onto kissing down her neck and along the neckline of her dress, and as his hands found their way under her dress to touch her bare skin, Hermione couldn't help sighing again. How could being with Malfoy feel this good? It had to be against the laws of nature. However, as she felt Malfoy's fingers rub against her and then gently find their way inside of her, she figured what the hell. It's not like she hadn't ever broken a few rules before. 

Malfoy's fingers slowly slid in and out and then with a flutter of excitement, she felt little Draco, who was not so little at the moment, brush against her inner thigh. Hermione was beginning to think that maybe having sex with Malfoy wasn't such a horrible idea after all when she thought she heard what sounded like someone clearing their throat nearby. She looked back to glare at Regulus, but he was still missing from his frame. It was probably her imagination. She was just overly tense. She needed this right now. Turning her attention back to Malfoy, she let her hands roam his body before gently sliding his pants down his hips. When she couldn't go any farther, she bent her leg up and started seductively pushing his pants down the rest of the way with her foot. That's when she heard it again. Only this time it wasn't just one throat clearing. It was quite distinctly two.

She immediately froze, her foot still in Malfoy's pants, as though her not moving somehow made her invisible. This couldn't be anything good. Lifting her head up to look over Malfoy's shoulder, she couldn't help letting out another sigh, although there was absolutely nothing pleasurable about this one. It was pure exasperation. However, as she took in the scene before her and looked a little bit closer, she felt her body involuntarily start to tremble. Unfortunately, despite Malfoy's continued efforts, the trembling wasn't caused by a much needed orgasm. It was her body's response to fear. Standing in the doorway with stupid grins on their faces were the Weasley twins. And they were wearing what looked like combat fatigues. “Shit.”

Hermione grudgingly deflected little Draco from what was more than likely going to be a huge mistake anyway, pulled down her dress which had bunched up around her waist and finally removed her foot from Malfoy's pants.

“You want to stop now?” growled Malfoy in her ear, slightly perturbed. “I could die from all this starting and stopping you know.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “You could die from lots of things, Malfoy. We have company,” she said, nodding her head toward the doorway.

“So, sorry,” said George, not appearing to be very sorry at all. “Are we interrupting something?”

Malfoy turned his head toward the door and openly scowled at the Weasley twins. “It figures they would have to come now of all times,” he muttered.

“Better us coming than you,” quipped Fred cheerfully.

“Good thing we didn't stop at that last shop,” added George. “A minute longer and Mr. Shitty Sex Speedy Pants would have come first.”

Fred laughed at that until he looked at Malfoy's expression.

Instead of glaring at George, Malfoy was smirking at Fred. “I don't know about you, Weasley,” he sneered, pulling up his pants, “but I was always taught that the lady comes first. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one that doesn't appreciate your little interruption.”

Fred looked at Hermione, and she felt her face heat up. She had been awfully close. 

“Oh, and by the way,” added Malfoy ruthlessly, “you have a little something right here.” He pointed at his forehead and gave Fred a triumphant look.

Fred angrily rubbed at the “L” that Malfoy had drawn on his forehead the night before. Ginny had been right; Mood Lipstick didn't come off very easily. Otherwise, she was quite sure Fred would have obliterated the loser symbol. Hermione watched in fascination as Fred's lips slowly turned to an ugly shade of bright green. An awkward silence followed only interrupted by the deafening sound of Malfoy zipping up his pants. Fred's lips then deepened to such a dark green that they were now almost black in color. Apparently, Fred didn't like to lose or to be reminded of it. Unable to take any more of the tension or humiliation, Hermione finally cleared her throat uncomfortably and attempted to take the focus off of her little indiscretion with Malfoy. Pointing at the ominous packages the twins were holding, she asked, “What's in the bags?” 

It was Fred's turn to speak, but as he was too busy sending Malfoy death glares, George jumped in. “Wouldn't you like to know? Or perhaps you wouldn't,” he said after a second's thought. “You'll find out soon enough though. Come on, Fred. Let's go set up downstairs. You can kill Malfoy later.”

“What are you setting up?” asked Hermione a tad fearfully.

“Oh, just our latest product,” said George rather mysteriously. “We needed to do a test run anyway, and this is the perfect opportunity to try it out. It's going to be epic.”

“Epic?” echoed Hermione. She didn't like the sound of that.

“Yeah,” said George, grinning somewhat sinisterly. “Epic. Meet us downstairs in twenty minutes. I guess you're on Malfoy's team seeing as you two seem to be roomies now. Perhaps, it's for the best though. I have a feeling it's going to be a lot more fun this way. I can already picture the possibilities,” he said, leering at her. “One little piece of advice though. Malfoy should probably bring something other than just underpants and rubber chickens to defend himself.” The twins laughed and shut the door behind them, leaving Hermione and Malfoy staring at each other wondering what the fuck they should do now.

“You want to...” began Malfoy.

“No,” answered Hermione promptly without letting him finish.

“You don't even know what I was going to say,” huffed Malfoy.

Hermione gave him a look that said she knew exactly what he was going to say, and it wasn't happening. Not now anyway.

“Fine,” snapped Malfoy. “What do 'you' want to do?”

“Find Regulus.”

“What! I thought you weren't in the mood for that anymore.”

“Not for that!” exclaimed Hermione, glaring at him. “We need him to spy on Fred and George, so we can come up with a plan.”

“You mean so you can come up with a plan,” grumbled Malfoy.

“Sex is not a plan, Malfoy. Come up with something productive, not reproductive, and maybe I'll listen.”

“I was going to remind you to cast the charm,” Malfoy muttered under his breath.

“Malfoy, do you need to go take care of things before you can think properly? The Weasley twins are downstairs right now planning something epic. Epic! And knowing them, it's probably something completely unsafe. Do you even realize the seriousness of this situation?”

“Why don't you just cast a charm on the door, so they can't get in?” replied Malfoy in a bored tone.

“Gryffindors fight. We don't cower in fear like you Slytherins are prone to do.”

“That's because Gryffindors are stupid,” retorted Malfoy.”Always willing to die for some stupid cause.”

“Some causes are worth dying for. And Gryffindors are not stupid,” said Hermione somewhat heatedly. “I'm smart enough to know that being trapped in a room under siege with you would be a fate far worse than death.”

“If you weren't wearing that diadem, you wouldn't be so fun either,” grumbled Malfoy.

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“I'm just saying.”

“Well don't. We're wasting time. We need to find Regulus. I'm not dying for you. That would be a stupid cause.”

“I don't see how some crappy painting is going to help us,” grumbled Malfoy. “They're going to duel us. And it's completely unfair. They know I don't have a wand. How the fuck am I supposed to defend myself with underpants and rubber chickens? You're going to have to do all the work, Granger.”

“I'm sure you're real upset about that, Malfoy,” said Hermione sarcastically.

“I am. You think I like depending on a Gryffindor to protect me,” sneered Malfoy. “Like you really care if I live or die.”

“I do too care!” protested Hermione a little too passionately. “I care about... my job.” she finished lamely.

“Well, I hope a little thing like my death doesn't keep you from getting that big promotion,” replied Malfoy sarcastically.

“Oh, you're being overly dramatic. Fred and George aren't going to kill you. On purpose anyway.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” grumbled Malfoy.

“Look, Malfoy. I'm not going to let you die. I'm not quite ready to express my undying lurf for you yet, but I don't exactly hate you anymore. Greatly dislike maybe, but I don't hate you. I promise I won't let the Weasley twins do any permanent damage to you. I know some really good Shield Spells.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “That's your big plan. Shield Spells? I remember exactly how well that worked out the last time.”

Hermione thought back to their little episode in the closet with the fireworks. “Well, if you don't distract me this time...”

“Forget it. You'd better come up with something better than a frigging Shield Spell.”

“That's why we need Regulus. He can go to any room in the house. He can tell us what the Weasley twins could possibly be up to that takes twenty minutes to set up. If I know what's going on, I can come up with a plan, and we can prepare.”

“Prepare? I thought Gryffindors always threw themselves into dangerous situations without thinking things through first.”

Hermione thought of Harry and Ron and couldn't help seeing Malfoy's point. However, she replied haughtily, “That is a myth.”

“Alright,” admitted Malfoy grudgingly. “I can see where a spy on our side may come in handy, but do you seriously think we can trust him?”

“Of course not. We're going to have to make a deal.”

“You mean you're going to have to make a deal.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” agreed Hermione with a sigh. She hated having to make a deal with the devil. It always ended up biting her in the ass. Or at least poking her there.

“So, what are you going to offer him?”

“I don't know. Do you have any bright ideas?”

“Why don't you just give him a blow job?” said Malfoy sarcastically. “You're good at those.”

“I'm not doing that!”

“You were going to shag him before,” pointed out Malfoy.

“That was before. And if you remember correctly, you said that was a stupid idea.”

“That was when it was just to save the world. This is to save me.”

“I am not giving him a blow job just to save your sorry ass.”

“What's the big deal? He's just a frigging painting. It hardly even counts. Besides, it's not like you're opposed to the act. You gave me a blow job, didn't you?”

“That's different. I didn't know it was you. I thought you were Viktor. Stupid Polyjuice,” she muttered.

“Well, I kind of was the victor, wasn't I?” Malfoy smirked.

“Shut up, Malfoy. Unless, of course, you're willing to give a serious suggestion of how I can get Regulus to take this deal.”

“What deal?” asked Regulus, suddenly appearing in his frame.

“Speak of the devil,” said Malfoy.

Hermione gave Malfoy a look that told him to butt out and then turned to Regulus. “We want you to spy on the Weasley twins,” she answered.

“What's in it for me?” asked Regulus without missing a beat.

“My gratitude?” replied Hermione hesitantly.

“How much gratitude are we talking about here?” asked Regulus shrewdly.

Hermione sighed. “How much do you want?”

“A blow job.”

“You were eavesdropping!” accused Hermione.

“Of course I was. It's my house, isn't it?”

“Technically it's Harry's,” pointed out Hermione.

“You really don't want my help, do you?”

“Of course I do,” insisted Hermione. 

“Well, you're not acting like you want my help. I think I need oral confirmation.”

“I'm not giving you a blow job.”

“You gave him a blow job,” said Regulus jealously. “I want one, too.”

“I didn't mean to give him a blow job. It was an accident.”

“I don't care how you do it. I'm not all that picky. I don't mind if it sucks. As long as it's in a good way.”

“I said, no,” said Hermione firmly.

“It would be easy. You don't even have to get down on your knees,” said Regulus, smiling down at her.

“I'd probably die of paint poisoning.”

“But at least one of us would have a happy ending.”

“Not happening. I'll kiss you. Take it or leave it.”

“Alright, I'll take it,” said Regulus grudgingly. “On one condition.”

“What?” asked Hermione warily.

“He has to watch,” said Regulus, smirking at Malfoy.

“Fine, but I want a Horcrux.”

“You mean the right to look for a Horcrux. Unless, of course, the blow job really is an option. Then I might be willing to negotiate.”

I meant the right to look for a Horcrux,” said Hermione through gritted teeth.

“Some Gryffindor you are. Alright, I suppose we have a deal,” said Regulus, looking slightly disappointed but holding out his hand.

“Deal,” agreed Hermione, reaching out her hand toward Regulus.

“No deal!” exclaimed Malfoy, shoving her away from Regulus. “I'm not watching you kiss him!”

“Would you rather be unprepared and vulnerable and left to the whim of the Weasley twins? Or, maybe you would rather go with your clever idea and watch me giving him a blow job?” Hermione asked sarcastically.

“No! I was just kidding about the blow job. I'm not watching you do that!”

“Then shut the hell up and watch me snog him!”

“I don't want to,” whined Malfoy. 

“Malfoy, do you want to stand a chance against the Weasley twins or not?”

“It's disgusting.”

“I'm the one who has to kiss him. Not you,” pointed out Hermione.

“But you have feelings for him.”

“My feelings are... complicated.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that my feelings are none of your business!” snapped Hermione.

“I think it means she lurfs me,” replied Regulus, smirking horribly.

Malfoy glared at Regulus but then turned on Hermione. “Do you? Do you... lurf him?”

“I don't even know what the hell that means, Malfoy,” fumed Hermione. “Why don't you tell me? Tell me what the fuck lurf is, and maybe I'll tell you if I'm in lurf or not. What's that, Malfoy? You have nothing to say about it? Big surprise.”

Malfoy scowled at her. “Just go fucking kiss him if you want to so much,” he replied angrily.

Hermione saluted him mockingly. “Your wish is my command.”

Marching up to Regulus, she stepped up on the chair and forcefully pulled his lips to hers. She was so angry at Malfoy that her only thought was getting even with him. She could feel his eyes on her, and she wanted to make him suffer. In a blind fury, she attacked Regulus's lips with a bruising kiss and rather forcefully plunged her tongue in his mouth. Regulus, obviously ready for a duel, vigorously returned the attack. It was a raw, fiery, passionate, out of control kiss. The kind of kiss that led to really great sex. 

The problem was, it wasn't Regulus that she was really kissing. Throughout the whole kiss, she was thinking of Malfoy. It was Malfoy that was stirring all of these emotions inside of her, not Regulus. It was becoming quite apparent that this kiss wasn't about Regulus or the Weasley twins or even about Horcruxes anymore. It was about a certain self proclaimed Slytherin prince who quite coincidentally was a royal pain in her ass. Malfoy had asked her the wrong question. And she was bloody well glad he did. She had a horrible, sinking feeling inside that her answer, whether she admitted it to him or not, was really going to annoy her. Starting to feel a little guilty for using Regulus, Hermione toned down the kiss. And that's when she realized that she had forgotten to invoke the no touching clause.

“Stop it,” she hissed against his mouth, pushing his hand away. She wished she had remembered to put knickers on.

“What's the matter?” purred Regulus, nuzzling her ear. “Can't imagine Malfoy when I'm touching you there?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” said Hermione, stiffening slightly. Was Regulus a Legilimens?

“I think we both know what I'm talking about,” whispered Regulus, nibbling her ear. “Luckily for me, dumb ass over there has no idea.”

“I don't like him,” she said a bit too quickly.

“I never said you did... like him.” Regulus emphasized it with a smirk.

“I hate you,” seethed Hermione.

“That's why the sex would be so great,” Regulus replied with a wink.

“I will never have sex with you,” she replied heatedly. Hermione suddenly wasn't feeling quite so bad about using Regulus to get even with Malfoy. Or whatever it was she was doing. 

“Never say never.” He grinned wickedly at her. “Remember, you still have another Horcrux to earn. Besides, it looks like you'll need to try a little bit harder next time if you really want to make him jealous. Sometimes, you need to go all the way to get the results you are looking for.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she couldn't help thinking that as infuriating as Regulus was, maybe he had a point. “Malfoy, you're not even watching!” exclaimed Hermione, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

Malfoy didn't even bother to look up. “The deal was that I had to watch you kiss him. No one said anything about having to watch you two argue as well. I have more important things to do,” said Malfoy distractedly as he continued to search through a box.

Hermione couldn't help blushing. She hoped he hadn't heard what they were arguing about. Of course, he didn't seem real concerned or affected by it if he did. “What are you doing?” she asked curiously.

Malfoy finally looked up at her. “When I saw him stick his hand up your dress, it got me thinking about something.”

Hermione's blush deepened even further. “It did?” She was almost afraid to ask. Almost. “About what?”

Malfoy pulled a wand out of the box. “Rubber chickens.”


	50. Draco's Deal

Rubber chickens? Once again, not what she had been thinking he was going to say. Malfoy was always full of surprises. Unfortunately, they were never the good kind. “And how exactly do you get rubber chickens out of... out of that?” Hermione spat angrily. She was pretty sure she should be offended. Rubber chickens indeed.

“Well,” began Malfoy, clearing enjoying her ire. “When I saw that idiot painting's hand go up your dress, I had a flashback of the single most horrifying moment of my life.”

“The time you tried to kill Dumbledore?”

“No.”

“The time you were turned into a ferret?”

“No!”

“The time Harry beat you to the Snitch? No wait. That happened more than once,” said Hermione vindictively. “How about the time...”

Malfoy scowled at her. “I was referring to the time I caught the egg from your vagina! I'm sure you must remember that time, chicken girl. I know I can't seem to forget it.”

Hermione's face turned pink. Just great. What every girl wants her vagina to be remembered for. “That was your fault!” she snapped in anger and embarrassment. 

“Whatever,” replied Malfoy dismissively. “The point is, it got me thinking about those eggs and...”

“As much fun as all of this reminiscing is,” interrupted Hermione sarcastically, “we don't have time for this. Some of us are trying to come up with a plan to fight the Weasley twins. Unless you're not interested in defending yourself that is.”

“That's what I'm trying to tell you,” replied Malfoy angrily. “As usual, you won't shut your mouth long enough to listen. I have a plan. While you were busy snogging yourself senseless with that frigging painting, I've been actually doing something useful.”

“Snogging Regulus was useful,” Hermione protested.

“I'll say it was,” agreed Regulus enthusiastically. “She can 'use' me anytime.”

“Stay out of this, Regulus. It has nothing to do with you,” replied Hermione, glaring at him.

“I think it has a little bit to do with me,” said Regulus, giving her a wink. “I was the one getting snogged after all. And what a snog it was!”

“Great job, Granger,” Malfoy sneered. “It seems you even excel at being useless.”

Hermione glared at him. “I wasn't snogging Regulus for my own enjoyment, you know,” she replied haughtily. That it had been enjoyable was completely beside the point. “I snogged Regulus to get him to spy on the Weasley twins to help save your ass! I don't see how you can consider that useless.”

“If that's the way you fight for a cause, I'm surprised S.P.E.W. didn't have more members,” said Malfoy spitefully. “Always the self-sacrificing one, aren't you? Well, you can't fool me. I know damn well that you weren't thinking about the Weasley twits during that little display of art appreciation.”

Hermione opened her mouth to defend herself but was dismayed to discover she had nothing to say. Nothing she wanted to say out loud anyway. Admittedly, snogging the paint off Regulus was probably more about making Malfoy jealous than about anything very self-sacrificing. And it did turn out to be fairly useless after all. The fact that her vagina had inspired thoughts of rubber chickens pretty much proved that point. She closed her mouth in annoyance and settled on glaring at Malfoy instead. Insufferable git.

I knew it!” exclaimed Malfoy. “You are in lurf with him.”

“What! Not that again,” said Hermione exasperatedly. She supposed she should be grateful that he had misinterpreted her silence, but she wasn't. In fact, it kind of pissed her off. And while she knew she was being ridiculous because, after all, she had been trying to make him jealous, she couldn't help being angry that Malfoy had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Again. As if she could really be in lurf with Regulus. He was a frigging painting for Merlin's sake. And why did he have to keep bringing up lurf anyway? Why couldn't he stop being a bloody coward and use the real fucking word for once? 

“I know you're in lurf with him,” he said again much to her annoyance.

“You apparently don't know anything,” snapped Hermione. “Regulus is an idiot and a Death Eater. Not to mention the fact that he's dead and a frigging painting. Really, could I find anyone any more incompatible?”

“Lurf's a mystery.” Regulus shrugged.

“Lurf is bullshit,” replied Hermione angrily.

“I saw you! I watched you kiss him. I had to, remember? And I know what I saw. You're in lurf with him,” insisted Malfoy. “Why don't you just admit it?”

“Like you admitted it to me? No thanks. I still have egg in my hair,” retorted Hermione.

“Yeah, maybe next time you should say it, not spray it,” Regulus joked. “Not that it really matters since she's obviously in lurf with me. Speaking of lurf, why don't you get lost so I can make lurf to my favorite Mudblood. She still has a Horcrux to earn, and I have an itch to scratch if you get my meaning.”

Malfoy's face drained of what little color he had and his hands clenched into tight fists. Malfoy certainly did get his meaning, but instead of replying with words, Malfoy charged angrily at him with his fists drawn. Regulus's eyes widened in shock, but quickly gathering his senses, he disappeared out of the picture just in time to miss Malfoy's fist going right through the frame. Regulus popped back into his frame again with a smirk on his face but just as quickly popped back out as Malfoy tried hitting him again. 

This went on and on as Regulus, being the annoying, dead Slytherin painting that he was, kept disappearing in and out of his frame dodging Malfoy's fists. Regulus's cowardly yet slightly amusing defensive strategy only seemed to make Malfoy angrier, and in his frustration, he punched and missed even more furiously. It was the most pathetic fight Hermione had ever witnessed and that was including the time Ron had gotten into a slap fight with Seamus over something Seamus had said about the Chudley Cannons.

“Malfoy, would you cut it out? You're wasting time,” said Hermione, starting to get annoyed. Not that she didn't think Malfoy's shadowboxing was entertaining and all, but they had things to do.

“Fight... like... a man,” grunted Malfoy breathlessly, ignoring Hermione and continuing to punch air.

“I'm... a lurfer... not... a fighter,” taunted Regulus in between punches.

“I am... going to... fucking... kill you,” huffed Malfoy, still throwing punches.

“You're... too... late. Just... like... with... her.” 

At those words, Malfoy froze mid punch as though he had just been stunned. Popping back into his frame with a triumphant smirk on his face, Regulus took full advantage of the situation and punched Malfoy right in the face, sending him sprawling to the floor.

“Regulus, you idiot!” cried Hermione, rushing to Malfoy's side. 

“I'm the idiot? He's the one unconscious.”

“Exactly! Why did you have to go and hit him like that? He's not any use to me unconscious. I don't want to fight the Weasley twins all by myself.”

Regulus shrugged. “He started it. I just ended it.”

“Well, you didn't have to hurt him,” said Hermione, smoothing Malfoy's hair back into place. “That was a low blow.”

“What?” asked Regulus, looking at her slyly. “I only did what you wanted me to do.”

“I didn't want you to hit him!”

“I wasn't talking about hitting him. That was just for fun and my own personal amusement. I was talking about what I said to him. About it being too late with you. Did you see his face? He looked like I just told him I had run over his dog. Or stolen his Mudblood girlfriend.”

“I don't know what you mean,” said Hermione uncomfortably.

“It seems congratulations are in order. Your brilliant plan worked. He's completely devastated by our lurf for one another.”

“Don't put this all on me,” said Hermione, feeling a little guilty. “It was your stupid plan to make him jealous.”

“Well, it may have been my plan, but you're the one that wanted to make him jealous. I just wanted to get laid.”

“I don't even know how Malfoy can seriously believe I'm in lurf with you. You're so annoying. I can't even stand being in a pretend relationship with you.”

“Are you breaking up with me? Can we still be friends? With benefits?”

“No.”

“Can we just have the benefits then? Who needs fucking friends anyway? Especially if there is no fucking involved.”

“I am not... benefiting you.”

“Why not? Is it because you lurf Malfoy?” asked Regulus sarcastically.

“I don't... I... Lurf is not a real word!”

“It sure is fun to say though. Rolls right off the tongue. Not like that other word.”

Do you really think he's jealous?” Hermione couldn't help asking.

“Of course, he's jealous. I'm exceedingly handsome, charming, suave, sophisticated, dashing... Pretty much everything he's not. And I suppose the fact that he's completely in love with you has something to do with it.”

“He is not in love with me,” said Hermione a tad more bitterly than she had intended.

“Of course he is. What does he have to do? Spit a whole box of chocolates in your face? I don't know why you're so insecure. Sure you're a Mudblood, but it's not like you're an ugly Mudblood.”

Hermione glared.

Regulus responded with his most charming smile. “Oh, come on. You know I lust you. And this stupid git on the floor says he lurfs you.”

“He didn't say it. He spat it. In my hair. There's a difference.”

“Well, I didn't say it was the most charming declaration or the best display of table manners, for that matter, but that's a Malfoy for you. They always were an immature lot. You're lucky he didn't pull your hair. Of course, it's not like you're any better. You can't even tell him you lurf him back. Why don't you just kick him in the shins and be done with it?”

“Maybe I should kick you in the shins,” grumbled Hermione.

“Aww, Malfoy was right. You do lurf me. It appears we have a lurf triangle on our hands. How cliché,” he drawled.

“Just because I want to maim you, doesn't mean I lurf you. And Malfoy is an idiot.”

“Well, I can't really argue with you there, but he's right, you know. That kiss meant something. If you ask me, that was the kiss of a girl in lurf.”

“I didn't ask you. And you and I both know, that kiss had nothing to do with you.”

“So you say,” goaded Regulus. ”Of course, it would make the whole not lurfing you back a little less awkward.”

“I could give a fuck if you lurf me or not. I don't lurf you, love you or even like you very much. And the only reason I am even remotely attracted to you is because I am wearing a fucking lunatic on my head. So get over yourself!”

“Are you trying to play hard to get? Because, truthfully, it's a little late for that.”

“I am not in lurf with you!”.

“That kiss said otherwise, and I'm pretty sure you know it, too. You are in lurf. You're just too chicken to admit it.” Regulus smirked at her.

Hermione hated herself for it, but that chicken crack got to her every time. And Regulus's stupid smirk on top of it sent her completely over the edge. “That fucking kiss wasn't about you, you egotistical shit. It was about him. That other fucking asshole. I may be in lurf with an annoying Slytherin prat, but believe me, it's not you.” 

As if on cue, Malfoy's eyes snapped open. Hermione's hand, that had somehow still been fondling his hair all this time, froze in place as she silently held her breath. He stared into her eyes intently for a while as though looking at them for the first time. Slowly, a smug expression began to form on his face. “You lurf me.”

“I do not!” exclaimed Hermione, quickly extricating her hand from his hair. She didn't like that smug expression on his face. It was a look that said he won. And being the stubborn, competitive witch that she was, she couldn't bring herself to let that happen. Fuck if she was going to be the first to admit anything.

“You... lurf me,” said Malfoy, smiling up at her, his eyes twinkling annoyingly.

“No, I don't,” said Hermione, trying to regain her composure. “That's ridiculous. I think Regulus must have knocked you senseless.”

“I heard you,” said Malfoy, sitting up and challenging her.

“Who said I was talking about you?”

“It was obviously me. What other annoying Slytherin prat could it be?”

“Um... Goyle? Yes, Goyle! He's annoying and a prat. And I lurf him,” she said triumphantly, her own smug expression forming.

Anger momentarily flashed across Malfoy's face but then his expression turned thoughtful. “But last night you said that you didn't.”

“I lied,” she said automatically, not even thinking about it. “I didn't want Harry and Ron to know.” There. That sounded very plausible.

“Under Veritaserum?” asked Malfoy skeptically.

“I'm the smartest witch of our age. I can overthrow the effects of Veritaserum if I want to,” said Hermione in her best know-it-all voice.

“If you weren't affected by the Veritaserum, then why did you bother admitting to all of that other embarrassing shit?”

Hmm. Good point. “I don't have to explain myself to you,” she retorted.

“No, you don't. I'm smart enough to figure it out for myself. You are not in love Goyle.”

Hermione was about to argue with him until death if necessary but then it finally clicked. “You're right,” said Hermione as though it had just dawned on her. “I don't love Goyle.”

“I knew it!”

“I lurf him.”

“I'm glad you finally... You what!”

“I... lurf him,” repeated Hermione, her eyes twinkling at him annoyingly.

“We've already been through this. You already admitted...”

“It's true that I said I didn't 'love' Goyle while I was under the influence of Veritaserum, but I never said anything about lurf. So unless you know something I don't, you can't really prove that I don't lurf Goyle, now can you?”

Malfoy paused for a moment, a conflicted expression on his face. It was obvious he was trying to decide if he actually wanted to divulge the meaning of lurf in order to prove Hermione wrong. After an inner struggle, he finally muttered, “No, I suppose I can't prove it.” 

“I thought so,” said Hermione, smiling triumphantly. “Now, speaking of chickens. What's this plan that you came up with?”

Malfoy glared at her but seemed content enough to drop the subject for the time being. “I'm going to stuff the rubber chickens with the Eggcellent Eggsploding Eggs that you laid and chuck them at the Weasley twins.”

“That's your big plan? Chucking chickens?” said Hermione taken aback. “That's... that's brilliant.”

“Of course it is,” replied Malfoy conceitedly. A little too conceitedly.

“And did you come up with a brilliant idea for the underpants as well?” asked Hermione rudely.

Malfoy scowled. “I thought I'd give them to you to do something with.”

“To do what? Make sling shots for the chickens?” quipped Hermione but then she turned thoughtful. “Maybe I could transfigure them...”

“To wear,” interrupted Malfoy, rolling his eyes. “I should have known you wouldn't know what to do with them.”

“I don't need your stupid underpants,” huffed Hermione, stomping over to her dresser and throwing open the drawer. Truthfully, she had forgotten she wasn't wearing any knickers. She had gotten so used to it that she didn't even notice the breeze anymore. “I have my own... Regulus! Where are my knickers!”

“Oh, did I forget to tell you? I had to borrow them.”

“You had to borrow them? For what? Some cross dressing fun?” asked Hermione sarcastically.

“No. Although I like how you think,” said Regulus, waggling his eyebrows. “I needed them for the Horcrux Hunt.”

“I'm afraid to ask,” said Hermione with a sigh.

“Don't worry. I didn't do anything weird. I just transfigured them into eggs.”

“You're right. That's not weird,” said Hermione sarcastically. 

“I had to hide my surprises somewhere.”

“Surprises?” Hermione asked warily.

“You know, Horcruxes and stuff.”

“You hid the Horcruxes in my knickers!”

“Well, all except one. You're still wearing the diadem,” he said, smiling evilly.

Hermione glared. “You couldn't just use the eggs from the refrigerator?”

“Well, that's not very imaginative, now is it? Besides I didn't want plain boring white eggs for the Hunt. That's not very festive.”

“You're supposed to decorate them.”

“Do I look like the fucking Easter Bunny?”

Hermione glared.

“Of course, I did end up having to decorate them anyway because your boring knickers needed a lot of work. I had to raid Prissy Percy's glitter supply to give them any sort of pizazz whatsoever. Now, those knickers hidden in the back of the drawer. Those made for some interesting eggs.”

“You looked through my hidden compartment!” yelled Hermione, completely freaking out.

“No, of course not. I just said, 'Accio Hermione's naughty knickers', and they came right out. Why? What other interesting things do you have hidden in there?” asked Regulus, a wicked smile forming on his face.

“None of your business!” huffed Hermione.

“Accio Hermione's whips and handcuffs!” 

“Accio Hermione's vibrator!”

“Accio Hermione's sex toys!” 

“You're lucky the Weasley twits didn't come flying at us,” said Malfoy dryly.

“I'm lucky you didn't come flying at me,” quipped Regulus.

“You should talk,” muttered Malfoy.

“Can we move on now,” asked Hermione impatiently. “We have chickens to stuff.”

“No, no. I've got it,” choked out Regulus, trying not to laugh too hard. “Accio Hermione's gay porn collection!” 

Regulus was nearly in tears and even Malfoy was snickering.

“You two are so immature. I'm glad you can bond over your stupidity.”

Recovering from his laughing fit, Regulus mused, “I know you're hiding something. The question is what.”

“Too bad you're too stupid to ever figure it out,” snapped Hermione.

“It's just as well. It's probably something boring like a book.”

When she didn't respond, Draco slowly turned his gray eyes on Hermione and looked at her incredulously for a moment. When she refused to meet his gaze, he grabbed her wand out of her hand and said, “Accio Hermione's diary!”

A little red book flew out of the drawer towards Malfoy, but Hermione quickly snatched it out of the air with lightning quick reflexes that would have made Harry proud. 

“You have a diary! I thought diaries were for girls,” said Malfoy mockingly.

Angrily grabbing her wand back, Hermione said, “I am a girl, you idiot.”

“Oh, right. So did you write anything about me?”

“Um, no,” said Hermione hesitantly, not looking him in the eye.

“You wrote about me!”

“Alright, you may have been mentioned in passing. It's not like the whole bloody thing's about you.”

“I want to read it.”

“No!”

“You read mine.”

“Yours was fake!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Yes, but you didn't know that.”

“You are not reading my diary, Malfoy.”

“Why? Did you write about how you were in lurf with me?”

“No. I most certainly did not.”

“Then give it to me,” said Malfoy, reaching for it.

“Stop it,” said Hermione, slapping his hand away and backing away from him. “Trust me, you don't want to read it.”

“Well, I want to read it,” said Regulus, plucking it out of her hand. 

He opened the diary to the first page and started reading.

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm so excited about Hogwarts. I met a boy on the train today. He had dirt on his nose. His name is Ronald Weasley, and he is so cute._

“Ugh. I think I'm going to hurl.”

“I was right. It is a boring book.”

_Dear Diary,_

_Ron is so funny. Today he was stirring his potion clockwise instead of counterclockwise. I corrected him of course. I wonder if he likes me?_

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You may as well have called him stupid to his face. Did you kick him in the shins too?”

Regulus snorted at that.

_Dear Diary,_

_Ron saved me from a troll today. I know we'll be friends forever now. Maybe someday we'll get married._

“Dumb, dumb, dumb, dummmmb,” sang Regulus.

“Who cares about Weasel? Find something about me.”

“Here's something.”

_Dear Diary,_

_Malfoy is such a jerk. He called me a Mudblood today. Ron did the sweetest thing though. He stood up for me just like a knight in shining armor from one of my books. Too bad he ended up puking slugs._

“Ha ha. That was priceless.”

“I stand by my opinion of you,” Hermione muttered.

_Dear Diary,_

_I hit Malfoy today. I think I made him cry. I should be sorry, but I'm not. I wish Buckbeak would eat him for breakfast._

“Vindictive little bitch,” said Regulus with admiration in his voice.

“I didn't cry.”

_Dear Diary,_

_Malfoy acts as though he's some kind of sex god. Ron is ever so much more attractive. Malfoy is kind of pointy._

“You're right. He is kind of pointy.”

“I'm not pointy! And there is no way Weasel is more attractive than me.”

“Whatever.”

_Dear Diary,_

_Viktor asked me to the Yule Ball today. I wish it had been Ron._

“Is this whole fucking thing about Weasel?”

“I told you that you didn't want to read it!”

_Dear Diary,_

_I lost my virginity today._

“Now we're getting somewhere.”

“Don't tell me it's fucking Weasel.”

“You already know it's Viktor, you ass.”

_Having sex wasn't as monumental as I thought it was going to be. I wish I would have saved myself._

“Small penis, huh?”

“Small brain. It worked alright for me,” said Malfoy smugly. 

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

_Dear Diary,_

_Viktor thinks we should see other people. I wish Ron would see me._

“For the love of God. Enough about Weasel.”

“Oh, you'll love this.”

“It better not be about Weasel.”

“It's not.”

_Dear Diary,_

_I just had sex with Goyle._

“Fuck me now.”

_Three times!!!!!!_

“She used a whole bunch of exclamation points.”

“Of course she did.”

“It gets better.”

“Of course it does.”

_For the first time since I let Viktor deflower me, I'm glad I wasn't a virgin. Goyle's thingy that must not be named is huge!_ ”

“Didn't need to know that.”

“Oh, like you haven't checked him out while you were peeing.”

“If I had, then I would know you were exaggerating, wouldn't I?” Malfoy growled.

“There's more.”

_Viktor was a very good lover, but Goyle... He took my breath away. I never really thought about him before, but now I can't seem to stop. I wonder..._ ”

“I don't want to hear any more about fucking Goyle,” Malfoy interrupted angrily. “Didn't she write anything good?”

“There's only one more entry.”

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm heading to Grimmauld Place to babysit Malfoy now. I'd rather eat a vomit-flavored Bertie Bott's Beans._

“Understandable,” said Regulus, closing the book and tossing it back to Hermione.

Malfoy snatched it away. “Where's the rest of it?” he asked, flipping through it.

“That's it. There isn't anymore.”

“You're lying. There has to be more.”

“There isn't. I haven't had time to write in it since I got here. I've kind of had my hands full. What did you think you would find?”

“Never mind. You're right. We're wasting time. Start stuffing,” said Malfoy, shoving some rubber chickens at her.

Hermione started carefully putting eggs inside the chickens. It bothered her that Malfoy was upset, but she didn't know what she could do about it. It's not like he hadn't brought it all on himself. She told him not to read it. If anyone had the right to be mad, it was her. He deserved every awful thing she had said about him. “What is your deal? I don't know what you expected, Malfoy. You were completely horrible to me in school. Of course I'm going to have a bad opinion of you.”

Malfoy kept working without saying a word and refused to look at her.

Hermione transfigured a pair of underpants into a bottomless backpack and started filling it with the chickens and the contents of their purple boxes. “And it's not like you've been much better since I got here,” continued Hermione, unable to stand the silence. “You've been a right pain in the ass. You've thrown food in my hair. You've turned me into a chicken. You've done nothing but humiliate me ever since I've known you.”

“What about you, Granger? You think you're any better?” seethed Malfoy, unable to remain quiet any longer. “Always trying to show me up in school. Looking down your nose at me. You used my so called friends against me. Hell, you even fucked one of them.”

“Three times,” added Regulus.

“And now my hair is fucking pink!”

“You deserved that!”

“I deserve a lot of things, Granger.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Never mind.”

“That is so typical of you, Malfoy. God forbid you ever willingly tell me anything.”

“Maybe I'll start a diary, and you can read things that you don't want to know.”

“I told you not to read it. Most of it was written a long time ago. Ron was just... Well, I don't really know what I was thinking with Ron, but he's a good friend, and that's all. And Viktor was the first boy who ever noticed me. Unfortunately, it seems he noticed a lot of other girls as well. So, it's not like it was ever anything special. And Goyle...” She trailed off, not really sure what to say about Goyle.

“So, it is Goyle. That you're in lurf with.”

“I...”

“Oh, do tell. The suspense is killing me,” said Regulus sarcastically.

Hermione glared at him. “Shouldn't you be downstairs spying?” she asked pointedly.

“I don't have to,” replied Regulus.

“But we had a deal,” shouted Hermione and Malfoy.

“Aren't you two fucking adorable? If only I were the matchmaking type. Would have to give a fuck though.”

They both gave him identical glares.

Regulus looked at them with an amused expression on his face. “I don't have to spy because I already know what they are up to. Do you really think I don't know what's going on in my own house?”

Draco and Hermione didn't bother to respond. They just waited for him to continue with annoyed expressions on their faces. 

“Alright, I peeked in on them several times when I was involved in that pathetic fist fight. They've been quite busy.”

“Well, what are they planning?” asked Hermione impatiently. “What kind of unsafe product are they going to use against us?”

“Something they call Battle in a Bag. They've completely ruined Mother's parlor, and they have a bunch of those Muggle gun thingies.”

“They have guns?” Malfoy said with fear in his voice. “Fuck. They really are going to kill me.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “They are not going to kill you, Malfoy. Some guns are just for fun. They're toys. They shoot out paint or water. I'm sure it's one of those types. In fact, I think I saw one in my purple box.” Hermione began digging in her box and pulled out a hot pink plastic gun.

Malfoy snatched it out of her hands and read the wording on the side of the gun. “Self-filling Aguamenti Gun.”

“See. We're just going to have a water gun fight. That's not so bad. It might even be fun.”

“Sometimes you are so naive, Granger,” said Malfoy condescendingly. “I'm keeping this just in case though.”

“Get your own gun,” said Hermione, trying to grab it back.

Malfoy held it out of her reach. “No. I need this more than you do. You have a wand.”

“You probably have a gun in your own purple box.”

“I have a feeling I'm going to need all the help I can get.”

“Fine. Keep the stupid gun. After all, it does match your hair,” Hermione added vindictively.

Draco held up his pink gun and squirted her in the face. “You're right; that is fun.”

Hermione pointed her wand and sent a stream of water at his face. “Told you so.”

Malfoy, of course, retaliated with a shot to her chest. Hermione aimed her wand a little lower and then really hit below the belt with a comment about him needing to use the “little” boy's room. It soon turned into an all out war and when Regulus got hit with some stray shots (and some shots that were rather on purpose), he joined in the fun too. Regulus didn't mess around though, and before they knew it, they were all soaking wet. Hermione stood there dripping wet and laughing until she noticed both Regulus and Malfoy staring at her. 

“What?”

“I think you're going to need these,” said Malfoy, tossing a pair of underpants at her.

Hermione looked down at herself to see her dress clinging to her skin rather provocatively. She may as well have been naked because the wet, thin material did not leave much to the imagination. Embarrassed, she quickly did a drying spell and picked up the underpants that Malfoy had thrown at her. “Turn around,” she ordered.

“It's not like we haven't seen it all before, Granger,” said Malfoy, smirking at her.

Hermione glared and turned away from them. Holding up the underpants in one hand, she pointed her wand to transfigure them into a more suitable undergarment. But when she cast her spell, they turned into something slightly more slutty than what she was going for. Instead of the plain white cotton knickers she had intended, they were zebra striped and crotchless. And no matter what she did, they wouldn't turn back. After several failed attempts and several pairs of underpants, all she had to show for her troubles was a black leather thong that she was sure would chafe, several pairs that looked a lot like dental floss and were much more her mum's taste than her own, a skimpy white lacy pair held together by flimsy pink ribbons and some knickers that were made out of a material that suspiciously looked like candy. Cherry candy. 

“Decisions, decisions,” said Regulus, laughing at her.

“Turn them back. Now!”

“It wasn't me,” said Regulus, innocently. “If you need an opinion though, I like the edible ones. I wouldn't mind a little snack about now.”

“Knock yourself out,” said Hermione, throwing the edible undies at him. “What about you, Malfoy. Which ones do you like?” she asked sarcastically.

“I think they're all, er, pretty good,” said Malfoy awkwardly, clearing his throat. He couldn't seem to stop staring at the ones with the tantalizing pink ribbons on the sides though. From the look on his face, Hermione was pretty sure he was imagining what it would be like to tug on those tempting pink ribbons

Not taking her eyes off of Malfoy, she picked up the sexy knickers by one of the pale pink ribbons, letting them dangle back and forth for a hypnotic moment before provocatively slipping them on under her dress. She could have sworn she heard his breath catch in his throat when she was sliding them up her legs. Smirking at him, she walked over to her dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and put them on as well. She then pointed her wand at her dress and transfigured it into an oversized sweatshirt to complete her ensemble. After all, she was going to a battle not an orgy. Well, hopefully anyway. She was still wearing the diadem.

“Well, that ended up being rather anticlimactic,” grumbled Regulus, taking a big bite out of the edible undies.

“You can't wear that,” Malfoy said adamantly, looking her up and down in disgust.

“Why not?”

“It's ugly.”

“So?”

“So, I wanted you on my team for a reason, Granger.”

“I know. For my brains. I don't see why...”

“Not for your brains,” scoffed Malfoy. “For your tits.”

“What!”

“I need a diversion. Something to distract the Weasley twits. That sweatsuit isn't going to cut it. It's not sexy at all. You can't even tell you're female in that thing. Take it off.”

“No! I can wear what I want.”

“I wasn't asking, Granger. It's a command. Take it off.”

“You can't tell me what to do, Malfoy.”

“Yes, I can. You agreed.”

“You can't command me to take off my clothes. I said nothing immoral.”

“I'm not ordering you to walk around naked. I just want you to change into something that looks a little less like a sack.”

“I will not be objectified.”

“Spare me your feminist ideals. This is war. We all have to do stuff that we're not proud of.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you doing that you're not proud of?”

“Participating.”

“Fine,” said Hermione, not wanting to argue anymore. “I'm not wearing anything slutty though.”

Malfoy walked over to her wardrobe and started rifling through her clothes. After several noises of disgust and a few disparaging comments on her taste, he finally pulled out a white shirt and plaid skirt. Throwing them at her he said, “Here. Put these on.”

Hermione looked at the garments skeptically. “You want me to wear my school uniform?”

“Yes,” Malfoy replied confidently.

“Bloody genius,” said Regulus from the wall.

Hermione rolled her eyes but nevertheless she walked over to her dresser and pulled out her knee socks and a simple beige bra. The bra promptly disappeared from her hand. 

“No bra,” said Regulus, twirling his wand in his hand.

“Definitely not,” agreed Malfoy. He tried not to smile. “But you can keep the knickers.”

“For now.” Regulus laughed.

“You want me to go to a water gun fight wearing a white shirt and no bra? That's, that's...”

“Brilliant?”

“Jerk off worthy?”

“Stupid! Completely stupid!”

“Look, Granger. I don't like to admit this, but the Weasley twins are evil geniuses. I know you're the smartest witch of the age, blah, blah, blah. But you're too much of a goody goody to compete with them. However, with my Slytherin sensibilities and your, um, breasts, I might have a chance of getting out of this in one piece.”

“Slytherin sensibilities,” Hermione sneered. “What are you going to do? Hide behind my beasts?”

“Don't be silly, Granger. They're not that big.”

Hermione scowled. “You're not even going to try to win, are you? You are such a bloody coward,” Hermione said, turning to walk away.

“The Malfoys always were a bunch of cowards,” said Regulus to Hermione's back. “Not unlike Mudbloods in that respect.”

Hermione stopped in her tracks and slowly turned around. Glaring at Regulus, she took a deep breath and determinedly marched up to Malfoy and kicked him hard in the shin.

“Ow! What the fuck was that for?”

“Ask Regulus,” snapped Hermione, grabbing her black Mary Janes and slamming the door behind her.

When Malfoy looked at him questioningly, Regulus said, “Well, I think maybe she was trying to tell you something, but unlike you, she was having a little trouble spitting it out.”

“And what exactly was she trying to say that required kicking me in the shin?” asked Malfoy angrily. 

Regulus shrugged. “Lurf hurts?”

Malfoy scowled at him.

Regulus sighed. “You two are so fucking helpless. You're lucky I'm such a God damn fucking romantic. You heard what she said before. She's in lurf with an annoying, Slytherin prat. I don't know this Goyle chap, but I'd say you certainly qualify. What do you think?”

After a moment's thought, it finally clicked and Malfoy smiled. “I think I owe you one.” 

“Aww. Are you going to give me my very own Mudblood to lurf?”

“No, I was going to give you this,” said Malfoy, punching him hard in the face. 

“Ow, son of a bitch!” yelled Regulus, clutching his face.

“But now that you mention it, I might know a pureblood you'd be interested in,” said Malfoy, still looking at the fist he had just used to hit Regulus.

Regulus tenderly rubbed his jaw and glared at him. “Oh, so now you want to set me up?” he said sarcastically, still disgruntled about Malfoy hitting him.

“Maybe.” Malfoy shrugged.

“And why would you suddenly want to play matchmaker?” asked Regulus suspiciously. 

“Believe it or not, I happen to know another annoying painting that I wouldn't mind getting rid of.” 

“Keep talking,” said Regulus, getting interested despite himself.

“It's some bloody witch that pissed Mother off, and now I have to pass by her every time I have to go to the bathroom. She's just hanging around Malfoy Manor being useless. Kind of like you in that respect. You're perfect for one another.” 

“Is she related?” .

“She's not your long lost sister if that's what you're asking.” 

“Good enough for me,” said Regulus, smiling wickedly. “I suppose you want something in return. You are a Slytherin after all.”

“I want the last Horcrux,” said Malfoy, trying to act casual.

“What!”

“You heard me, said Malfoy, looking annoyed at having to repeat himself. “I want the last Horcrux. And in exchange, I'll hook you up.”

“And I should trust you why exactly?” asked Regulus, narrowing his eyes.

“Because I'm willing to do an Unbreakable Vow if you want me to.”

“You must really want that Horcrux,” said Regulus, observing him closely.

“No, she really wants that Horcrux. I want... I want you to leave her alone.”

“Hmmm, I don't know,” said Regulus being difficult. “Hermione is one fine piece of Mudblood ass. How do I know this pureblood is going to be worth it?”

“She's a slut. Kind of why she's in the predicament she's in.”

“Enough said. You have yourself a deal,” said Regulus, holding out his hand. “I suppose this means you're going to fight now.”

Shaking Regulus's hand a little harder than was needed, Malfoy said, “That's the plan. The Weasleys are going down.”

“I meant fight for her.”

Malfoy picked up the backpack with the chickens and slung it over his shoulder. “So did I,” he said with a determined glint in his eye.

“Malfoy!” yelled Hermione from the hallway. “Get the fuck out here and help me. Those Weasley twins aren't going to Avada themselves.”

“Lurf calls,” said Regulus sarcastically.

“You bet your ass it does,” replied Malfoy, smirking at Regulus before yelling, “Coming, dear.”

When he finally joined her in the hallway, Hermione was standing in her school uniform with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. “That spell wore off, you know. You can call me a bitch if you want to.”

“I know, but I've found it's a lot more fun this way.”

“You mean more annoying,” muttered Hermione.

“That's what I said.”

“Whatever. Are we going to chuck some chickens or what?”

“Just one thing first.” He gently fingered one of her curls and then suddenly yanked on it.

“Ow! Did you just fucking pull my hair?”

Malfoy smirked at her. “Just returning the sentiment.”

Hermione's mouth dropped open.

“After you, dear,” said Malfoy, bowing mockingly and giving her a mischievous wink. “Let's go kick some Weasley ass.”


	51. Patent Pending

Hermione was still standing in the hallway with her mouth hanging open when Regulus popped into the frame next to her. He gave her a sly look. “What's the matter? Malfoy get your tongue?”

With a scowl, Hermione's mouth immediately snapped shut but not for long. “Can't you go be useless somewhere else?” She didn't appreciate the interruption. Malfoy and her were having a... well, moment wasn't exactly the right word, but they were having something. And Regulus was very much interrupting it.

Regulus looked offended. “That's gratitude for you. Here I am coming out here to help because I know Malfoy doesn't have a wand, and you have to go and insult me.”

“You're here to help?” Hermione asked incredulously, feeling a tad bit guilty about how she had treated Regulus. She wasn't stupid though. Regulus was anything but selfless. “What's in it for you?”

“Just the satisfaction of a job well done,” said Regulus with a smirk, pointing his wand at her and casting a spell.

Not expecting to be attacked, Hermione reacted too late and was unable to block the spell. The top two buttons of her uniform immediately popped off. For a moment, she was worried she was blowing up like Harry's Aunt Marge, but as her skirt proceeded to shorten enough to reveal a dangling pink ribbon, it became quite clear what the spell really did. It made her look like a slut. Hermione looked down at her uniform disapprovingly (definitely not regulation) and glared at Regulus. “How am I supposed to do anything useful when I can't even bend over?” she asked angrily.

“I don't see why you need to bring sex into it,” Regulus quipped with a lascivious grin on his face. 

“Yeah, you're a smart girl,” added Malfoy, his eyes unconsciously flickering down to the dangling pink ribbon peeking out from her skirt. “You don't need to resort to that.”

Hermione scowled. “You two are so annoying when you get along. And on that subject. Why are you two getting along?” she asked suspiciously, her eyes narrowing.

“Well,” began Malfoy awkwardly, struggling to come up with a reason. “He's, um, not so bad once you get to know him, I guess.” 

“Oh, really? For some reason, I find that hard to believe. And in your opinion, what is it exactly that makes him not so bad now?” asked Hermione, crossing her arms across her chest and watching Malfoy squirm.

“He's a Slytherin, and he's a... a relative,” stammered Malfoy, grasping for straws.

“Hardly admirable traits,” Hermione said dryly. “Besides, you were aware of those particular qualities from the beginning, and you still found him irritating. Surely, there must be something else.”

“Well... since I've gotten to really know him, I've discovered that he's... kind of... funny and... uh... clever,” choked out Malfoy.

Hermione turned to Regulus. “And what do you have to say?”

“He forgot charming and devastatingly handsome,” replied Regulus conceitedly, flashing her his best smile.

“I meant about why you're being so nice to him.”

“Oh, that.” Regulus shrugged. “He's bribing me.”

Malfoy glared.

“What...” began Hermione, but Malfoy interrupted her.

“Enough of this chit chat. Those Weasley twits aren't going to Avada themselves, remember?”

“Fine. I will get to the bottom of this though,” huffed Hermione, turning on her heel and stomping down the stairs.

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do? Read my diary again?” asked Malfoy sarcastically, following close behind her.

“No. Are you going to read mine again?” she threw back over her shoulder.

“No,” he grumbled. He hadn't particularly enjoyed reading about her crush on Weasel. At all. But at the same time, he knew she didn't have feelings for the red-headed dimwit other than friendship. And while that was bothersome in itself, he could deal with it. Putting up with her useless friends wasn't so horrible. After all, making cracks at Weasel's expense just happened to be one of his favorite pastimes. Goyle, on the other hand, was a different story. Hermione actually had some kind of feelings for him. That fucking asshole. 

And the worst part was that she didn't even seem to know what those feelings were for sure. How could he compete against that? For all he knew, she could be in love with the stupid prick. And then where did that leave him? Part of some bloody love triangle, that's where. He didn't want to be in anything with Goyle, let alone some crappy geometric symbol of angst. He would end up killing the stupid, bloody fuck. And then he would end up in Azkaban. And Goyle would probably come back as a ghost to be with Hermione just to spite him. Because annoying bastards like Goyle just didn't go away. Ever. Malfoy was so wrapped up in these unpleasant thoughts that he didn't notice that Hermione had stopped at the bottom of the steps, and he ran right into her.

“Malfoy, would you watch where you're going?” Hermione snapped.

“It's your fault,” Malfoy grumbled. “You shouldn't have stopped so suddenly.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, why don't you go first then,” said Hermione, stepping aside for Malfoy to pass. “Be my guest.”

“Holy shit,” breathed Malfoy when he saw the room before him. What was once the front parlor was now a dense jungle, thick with trees, dangerous-looking vines and exotic flowers that looked like they could eat him alive.

“What now, commander?” Hermione asked sarcastically.

“Fuck if I know. You're the brilliant strategist. You tell me.”

“I thought you just wanted me for my boobs,” she huffed.

“I do. But... that's not the only reason.”

Malfoy's serious tone made Hermione's breath catch in her throat, but she somehow managed to choke out, “There's another reason?”

“You have a tight ass too,” said a voice from behind her.

Hermione pursed her lips and counted to ten before she turned and glared at Regulus. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm spying, remember? You snogged me for those services. Almost ended up having sex with me if you recall.”

“I did not almost have sex with you,” snapped Hermione angrily, trying not to blush at the memory of her practically devouring him whole.

“Alright, you almost had sex with 'Malfoy' using my body. Better? Anyway, fun was had, and in exchange, I agreed to spy.”

“You are supposed to be spying on the Weasley twins, not us,” said Hermione, glaring at him.

“How the fuck am I supposed to spy on them?” asked Regulus. “They're in camouflage.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You'd think I'd be used to being surrounded by idiots by now, but it never gets any easier.”

“I don't know what you expect. It's a goddamn jungle in here,” replied Regulus, gesturing to their wild surroundings. “In case you've forgotten, I am a fucking painting. I'm stuck on the wall, and I can't see shit from here. You two are going to have to go in there and do your own dirty work this time.”

Hermione sighed. “I hate to say it, but he's right.”

“I'm not going in there!” exclaimed Malfoy, looking at Hermione and Regulus as though they were both crazy.

“Well, we can't stay here. We're open targets.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she got hit in the left boob. The single shot of water was extremely cold and made her gasp. Hermione raised her wand and looked over at Malfoy, expecting him to have his water guns drawn, or at the very least, getting ready to launch a chicken. Instead, he was just standing there like an idiot with his mouth hanging open staring at her boob. Clearing her throat to get his attention, she asked him pointedly, “Aren't you going to do something?” 

“Oh, right.” Malfoy snapped out of the trance he was in and quickly pulled her in front of him. He held tightly onto her by her arms, so she couldn't even use her wand to protect herself anymore.

“Are you using me as a human shield?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!”

“I told you I needed your tits for a distraction, and believe me, that is one major distraction. You can see right through that shirt. That water was pretty cold, huh?” He smirked.

Hermione stomped on his foot hard enough to make him let go of her and then she punched him in the arm. Just because.

“Ow! Insubordination!” Malfoy yelled, clutching his arm and hopping on one foot.

“You got that right I am not participating in some degrading wet t-shirt contest just for your amusement.”

“It's not just for my amusement,” replied Malfoy, trying to look her in the eye to give that statement a little more credibility.

“Yeah,” agreed Regulus, backing him up. “It's for my amusement too. Don't tell me you forgot about me.”

“As if I could,” muttered Hermione.

Malfoy shot Regulus an unappreciative look and then said as seriously as possible under the circumstances, “It's for the cause.”

“I don't care why you want me to do it,” she huffed, crossing her arms across her chest in an effort to cover herself up. “I'm not doing it.”

“We already talked about this. I will not tolerate insubordination.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do about it?” challenged Hermione, giving him a shove.

“I'm going to, to...” Shit. What was he going to do about it?

“That's what I thought,” Hermione, said, smirking at him triumphantly.

Malfoy couldn't have that, even if she did look cute with a smirk. So, he shoved her back.

“Hey!” exclaimed Hermione indignantly, returning the shove.

“Do you really want to get into a shoving match now?” asked Malfoy, shoving her a little harder. “Because I will win.”

“You will not,” insisted Hermione, shoving him as hard as she could.

“I will,” said Malfoy, shoving her up against the wall and pressing his body against hers. He either knocked the breath out of her, or she had no objections as he leaned in to kiss her. Their lips molded together perfectly, and Hermione most willing succumbed to his command of the kiss. He pulled away just long enough to say, “See?” before quickly resuming his duties and quieting any more thoughts of mutiny.

Draco and Hermione were so busy snogging each other that they completely forgot they were under attack and didn't even hear the rustling and whispering coming from a nearby shrub. After a while, a disgruntled Fred and George finally stood up with annoyed expressions on their faces.

“They're not even trying to fight back,” said Fred, the irritation evident in his voice. “It's no fun if they don't fight back.”

“Oi! We're trying to have a war here,” called George to the oblivious snogging couple.

Fred shook his head in defeat. “Fucking pathetic. It hasn't even started yet, and we've already somehow managed to lose the war.”

“Fucking lurf,” George replied. “Always fucks things up. Well, we may have lost the war, but that doesn't mean we can't still win a few battles before it's all said and done. You know, just for fun.”

“Just for fun,” echoed Fred, a wicked smile forming on his face, his lips a mischievous shade of purple. “Ready, bro?” he asked, raising his Weasley Water Waster.

George's matching purple lips returned the smile, and on the count of three, they blasted Malfoy and Hermione, soaking them in a matter of seconds. The blast of freezing cold water hit Malfoy first, causing him to yelp and jump away from Hermione, exposing her to the wrath of the rapid-fire weapons. 

Despite the force of water drenching them, Hermione managed to shout, “Accio umbrella!” A black umbrella came flying out of the ugly troll-leg umbrella stand, and Hermione quickly snapped it open, using it to help shield them from the relentless blasts of water coming from the Weasley twins.

Malfoy gave her a disapproving look. “You do know that it is unlucky to open an umbrella indoors, don't you?”

“As unlucky as pissing off the umbrella holder?” asked Hermione, tilting the umbrella to her side so that Malfoy received a blast of water right in the face.

Malfoy sputtered some profanities until Hermione felt she had proved her point and re-positioned the umbrella to protect him from the incessant fire. “Now stop standing there blabbering superstitious nonsense and shoot!” she ordered.

“I'm the commander,” began Malfoy.

“Just fucking shoot!” 

Making the executive decision that it was better to obey her for the moment, he sprung into action. Bravely jumping out from behind the umbrella, he dramatically held out the pink and purple squirt guns in front of him. With a battle cry, he repeatedly squeezed down on the triggers just like a Muggle action star. However, the minuscule arcs of water that shot out of the guns unfortunately fell short of their intended targets, barely even making it to the edge of the bushes where the Weasley twins were standing completely unscathed. It ended up being such a lame counter attack that the twins stopped firing so that they could watch and make funny comments at Malfoy's expense. After several frustrating attempts to shoot them, Malfoy finally stopped firing and angrily threw his weapons at the Weasley twins instead, hitting one of them in the head. Malfoy and Hermione both turned to glare at Regulus.

“Did I forget to mention that their guns were a tad bigger?” Regulus asked, not even trying to hide his amusement. 

Fred and George walked over with their water machine guns slung carelessly over their shoulders. George was rubbing his head, but they both looked rather dazed like someone had sent a Stunning Spell their way. Not even bothering to look in Malfoy's direction, the twins focused their attention solely on Hermione. They weren't exactly looking her in the eye though.

“Ah, sexy schoolgirl. We underestimated you, Malfoy,” said George with a hint of admiration in his voice, his eyes never leaving Hermione.

“And we definitely underestimated you, Hermione,” said Fred, his eyes glued to her chest.

Hermione quickly cast a Drying Spell on herself and after only a moment's hesitation cast one on Malfoy as well. A wet Malfoy was too much of a distraction. Scowling at the twins, she said, “That was completely unfair attacking us like that. We haven't even discussed the rules yet.”

Fred and George both shrugged. “Weasley rules.”

“Weasley rules,” scoffed Hermione. “That's the same as there being no rules at all. How are we supposed to know who wins?”

“We've already conceded that Malfoy won,” George said grudgingly.

“Malfoy?” said Hermione in surprise. “But he didn't do anything.”

“Exactly,” agreed Fred bitterly.”Undeserving bastard.”

Malfoy smirked at Fred and made the “L” sign on his forehead, causing Fred to yet again rub angrily at the loser symbol still faintly showing on his forehead. 

Hermione looked confused but not wanting to argue only said, “So, I suppose we're done here?”

George laughed. “And people say you don't have a sense of humor.”

Hermione scowled. “If Malfoy has already won, despite the fact that he didn't do shit,” she couldn't help adding, ”then I don't see the point of continuing this nonsense.”

“The point is that it will be fun,” said Fred.

“Fun!” scoffed Hermione. “This is not fun.”

“It sure looked like you were having fun.” George smirked.

“Yeah,” agreed Fred, his lips tinged green. “A lot of fun.” 

Hermione chose not to dignify them with an answer which was fortunate as she didn't have one.

“Besides,” said George, “we need to test our latest product before we make it available for sale. Pretty impressive, huh? It's called Battle in a Bag, patent pending of course.”

“We are not going to be your guinea pigs. Again.” Hermione was adamant. 

“Battle in a Bag is part of our new defense line. It's our contribution to the war effort,” said Fred passionately. “People need to be prepared. They need to know how to defend themselves. Lives will be saved with this product, and we're not just talking love lives this time. This is going to make a difference.”

“And,” added George, “you could totally use the practice.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” asked Hermione offended.

“You were totally unprepared. If we were shooting you with Avada Kedavras instead of water, you would both be dead right now.”

“If you can't handle us, how do you expect to handle You No Poo and his Shit Eaters?”

“We can handle you,” said Hermione defiantly, rising to the bait.

“Prove it,” they both said, smirking at her

“We will,” Hermione replied confidently.

“Where do you get off saying we?” asked Malfoy, glaring at her. “I already won. Why should I have to prove anything?”

“Because we are a team. At least for another twenty-two hours. So, unless you are willing to release me from your command,” Hermione threatened, “we are fighting. Together.” 

“Bloody Gryffindors,” muttered Malfoy. “Alright, we fight.”

Hermione rewarded him with a big smile.

Afraid he was going to turn into a Hufflepuff ball of goo, Malfoy said in his cockiest Slytherin voice to the twins, “And we're going to kick your ass, too.”

“You'll have to catch us first,” said Fred and George, turning and Apparating away with a crack.

“Fuck. Now what?”

“We find them,” said Hermione as though it were obvious.

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

“Homing chickens.”

Malfoy stared at her blankly.

“I know a Homing Device Spell.”

“Of course, you do.”

“I'll simply place it on two of the chickens, and we'll blast them out.”

“That might work.”

“Of course, it will.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but reached into his bag and pulled out two chickens. Hermione stuffed the chickens with some hairs from the Weasley twins that she had nicked from their room and cast the spell. Handing one back to Malfoy, they both took a deep breath and squeezed. The chickens flew out of their hands and zoomed off toward the northwest corner of the room, leaving a colorful, glittery trail in their wake. Apparently, a fairly powerful Extension Charm had come with the twins' Battle in a Bag because it took a while before the chickens reached their targets. Hermione smiled when she finally heard the first scream in the distance.

“Those chickens should keep them busy for a while,” she said, looking rather pleased with herself. “I doubt they will be able to Apparate anytime soon. I changed the properties of the spell on the Whiz-Bangs, so they won't be able to vanish them very easily. Let's just say it will really be a pain in the ass if they try. So, we pretty much just have to follow the Whiz-Bangs from here.”

“You mean, we're actually going in there?” asked Malfoy in disbelief. 

“Do you have a better plan?”

“Yeah. Let's ditch the twits and go back to your room and finish what we started before we were so rudely interrupted.”

“We can't just quit.”

“Um, yeah we can.”

“No, we can't,” Hermione said with finality in her voice.

“Fine,” said Malfoy, resignation in his voice. “Why don't we just Apparate then? Don't tell me you can't do a Side-Along, Granger.” 

“Of course I can do a Side-Along,” snapped Hermione. “The reason I don't want to Apparate is because I don't want to end up in a pit of quicksand or something equally unpleasant, that's why.”

“Oh, you'd rather walk right into it, would you?” asked Malfoy sarcastically. “And on the way, we can get strangled by dangerous vines and be eaten by a lovely bouquet of flowers. No thanks. Pothead and Weasel might be stupid enough to go on these crazy, pointless adventures with you but not me.”

“If you're too scared to go with me, you can stay here with your new best friend. I'm sure Regulus would be glad for the company.”

“Not really,” said Regulus in a bored tone from the wall.

“I am not scared. I just don't feel the need to get myself killed just so you can prove yourself,” Malfoy said heatedly.

“This isn't about me proving myself, Malfoy.”

“What's it about then?”

“It's about... Oh, never mind!”

Malfoy looked at her closely for a while and then it slowly dawned at him. “Oh,” he finally said. “It's about me proving myself. You still don't trust me, do you?”

“I do,” began Hermione, clearly uncomfortable. “I just...”

“No. I get it. Once a snake always a snake.”

“You know I don't feel that way,” Hermione said quietly.

“That's just it. I don't know how you feel. Not really.”

“You want me to kick you again?” asked Hermione with an uncertain smile.

“No. I'd rather you show me in a more... pleasurable way,” whispered Malfoy, stepping closer to her and leaning in to kiss her neck.

“You...” Hermione paused, closing her eyes and sighing, “are trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?” asked Malfoy, nibbling on her ear as his fingers worked the buttons on her shirt.

“No,” moaned Hermione unconvincingly as she arched her back in response to the delicious trail of kisses he was leaving on her body.

Malfoy slipped her shirt off her shoulders, letting his fingertips glide sensually over her soft skin. “Maybe I should try a little harder then,” he said huskily, pressing himself into her.

“Oh, please. Could you use a cheesier line? That was pathetic. And I was just getting into it, too.”

“Would you stop interrupting me!” Malfoy snapped. “I don't need your stupid little comments. If you don't like how I'm doing it, you can go get yourself off.”

“It was just a little criticism,” Regulus replied offhandedly as though he couldn't understand why Malfoy was making such a big deal about it. “No need to stop on my account. I'll just use a spell to block out your annoying, mood-killing chatter. I only need a visual anyway.”

“You are disgusting,” said Hermione, buttoning up her shirt and glaring at Regulus.

“What? It's natural. And you two are the exhibitionists here. I'm just an innocent wanking bystander.” 

“If you don't fucking get out of here now, I'm going to... to...” stammered Malfoy.

“What?” asked Regulus with a smirk. “Turn purple? You should really do something about that. I hear if you let that go on too long, your dick can fall off.”

Malfoy started to lunge for Regulus, but Hermione held him back. “Just stop. We should just go. This isn't going to work out.”

“Yeah, because he...”

“It's not him, Malfoy. It's you. It's me. It's us...” she trailed off. “I don't think that I'm ready for us.”

Malfoy stood there staring blankly at her, unable to think of anything to say. He couldn't seem to find the words to express what he was feeling at the moment.

Regulus, on the other hand, had no trouble finding words to describe the situation. “It's so quiet right now you could almost hear a dick drop.”

“That's it!” Malfoy yelled, breaking away from Hermione and charging toward Regulus, who of course, immediately popped out of his frame and into a nearby still life.

“Malfoy, would you please stop? I'm not wasting my time watching another one of your pathetic fights with Regulus. It's completely pointless.”

“It's all rather pointless, isn't it?” asked Malfoy bitterly. “You're never going to trust me, are you?”

“That's not true. It's just...” 

“You know, you sure expect a lot from me,” Malfoy interrupted. “I had to meet your parents. I had to suffer through dinner with Goyle. I had to stay the night in a Weasel-infested Burrow. I had to listen to Potter's self-righteousness. I had to look at Weasel's face. I don't know what else you could possibly want from me.”

“You only did all of those things because I made you,” said Hermione, starting to get angry.

Ignoring her, Malfoy continued on, “And now I have to hunt for dangerous Weasley twits. Not exactly my idea of a fun recreational sport. I'm doing all of this for you. What have you done for me?”

“Oh, here we go. It's always about you, isn't it, Malfoy? You are nothing but a selfish, spoiled brat. I don't know how you can expect me to trust you when you obviously haven't changed at all!”

“Ha! See, you don't trust me!”

“I... I don't know what to think anymore!”

“I have changed,” Malfoy grumbled.

Hermione sighed. “I know you've changed. And I want to trust you, but this is all happening too fast. There are too many things going on in my life right now. I need more time.”

“Fine. I'll wait,” he said grudgingly and then muttered to himself. “I just hope my dick doesn't fall off.”

“This is all about sex to you, isn't it?” Hermione snapped. “How could I be so stupid as to think...”

“You're not stupid,” Malfoy interrupted, grabbing her hand and taking a deep breath. “You're the smartest witch of your age, remember? I have changed. And I will prove it to you. I'll hunt Weasley twins with you. I'll hunt dangerous eggs that have ripped up bits of human soul in them and probably even worse things, knowing that stupid painting. Hell, I'll even push Potter out of the way and kill Voldemort myself if I have to. Just give me a chance. I don't just want sex. I want you.”

Hermione stiffened and pulled away.

“I'm sorry,” said Draco, turning red. Did he really just say all that? He was such a fucking Hufflepuff. “I didn't mean it. I mean I did, but I didn't mean to just blurt it out like that. I... Oh, fuck.”

“No, it's not that,” said Hermione dismissively. “I mean that's lovely. Truly. It's the Horcrux Hunt. I can't believe I forgot about it again. I still need to earn the last Horcrux.”

“Oh, that. Well, you see...” 

Ignoring him, Hermione marched up to Regulus. “What do I have to do to earn the last Horcrux?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “It's yours.”

“You're just going to give it to me?” asked Hermione incredulously.

“Yep.”

“No kiss?”

“No.”

“No touching?”

“No.”

“No blow job?”

Regulus wavered slightly, but after glancing at Malfoy, he reluctantly said, “No.”

“What about...”

“Would you stop torturing me!” exclaimed Regulus.

“So, you're really just going to give it to me?” asked Hermione in disbelief.

“For the love of Merlin, yes!”

“Why?”

“Because I'm a nice guy,” said Regulus, unable to hold in the sarcasm.

Hermione pointed her wand at him. “Try again.”

Regulus rolled his eyes at her. “Because your boyfriend already procured it for you.”

Hermione lowered her wand and slowly turned her eyes on Malfoy. Unfortunately for Malfoy, her eyes weren't full of gratitude. “You earned the last Horcrux for me?” she hissed.

“You're welcome?” he countered uncertainly, backing away from her. She didn't look as happy or as grateful as he had imagined she would. In fact, she looked a little unstable.

“You had sex with him!”

“What? No. No!” exclaimed Malfoy, horrified at the thought.

“Does a blow job count as sex?” asked Regulus, trying to keep a straight face.

Malfoy scowled at him but turned to Hermione. “I made a trade. That's all. I swear.”

“A trade?” echoed Hermione, still looking skeptical.

“Yes, a trade. A family heirloom so to speak.”

“He's giving me a piece of ass, I mean a piece of art, in exchange for the last Horcrux,” said Regulus with a wicked smile. 

Hermione turned to Malfoy in shock. “You did this for me?”

“And the world,” Malfoy said stupidly. The way she was looking at him made him feel very uncomfortable.

Hermione smiled at him. And before he could say anything else stupid, she threw her arms around him and kissed him.

“Ugh. I think I'm going to puke. Can you two go be nauseating somewhere else? Sex is one thing, but I can't watch all of this lovey dovey crap.”

Hermione reluctantly pulled out of the kiss. “I suppose we should get going.”

“If we have to,” said Malfoy grudgingly.

“We have to,” said Hermione adamantly but with a smile.

“Might as well make the most of this then, I suppose,” he said, reaching out and slipping his hand in hers. 

Hermione looked down at their entwined hands and then back up at Malfoy in disbelief. “Is this like a date,” she choked out.

“Why not?” Malfoy shrugged. “I lurf you. You lurf me.”

“I never actually said that I lurfed you,” pointed out Hermione.

“But you do, don't you?” Malfoy smirked.

“Um...”

“You can confess your lurf after our date. If you can wait that long.”

“I don't know if this such a good idea, Malfoy. We're heading into a dangerous jungle, hunting Weasley twins. We really don't need the distraction, and you have to admit, this is hardly an ideal first date.”

“What are you talking about? We're in an exotic locale, going on a lovely stroll with fireworks exploding in the distance. And best of all, we'll be alone. Between your interfering friends and that stupid painting, who knows when this will happen again?”

Hermione took a deep breath and laced her fingers with his “Kind of a cheap date, aren't you?” she said jokingly in an effort to hide her nerves.

“Get used to it,” Malfoy replied. “My parents are going to disown me for sure when they find out about you.”

“You're going to tell your parents!” exclaimed Hermione in disbelief. She kind of thought their relationship would be of the clandestine variety.

“Well, I'll have to. Eventually. Did you think we were going to keep it secret?”

“Um, no.” 

“You did,” he accused.

'I just don't know how you can be so cavalier about it. Harry and Ron are going to freak when I tell them.”

“I have news for you. They already know.”

“They do not know,” Hermione insisted.

“They do. But even if they didn't know, do you really think it would be worse than me having to tell my Death Eater father? I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.”

“You don't know how Harry and Ron get. It's not like they'll be locked up in Azkaban like your father.” Hermione gasped and put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean...”

“No, you're right. The whole Azkaban thing does make it a bit easier.”

“You don't seem very concerned about your father going to Azkaban,” noted Hermione.

“Why should I? They finally got rid of those nasty Dementors. Father is very resourceful. And rich. He'll pay off the guards and live quite nicely until the Ministry releases him early for good behavior, a.k.a. a sizable donation.”

“Your father is vile,” Hermione commented.

“He has similar feelings about you.”

“So, you're willing to go up against your father and risk getting disowned... for me?”

“Well... I am, but I don't really think I'll get disowned. I am like my father in someways. I can be quite resourceful, too, you know.”

“So, I guess it's a date then?” Hermione said hesitantly.

“Well, that depends,” Draco teased. “Do you put out on the first date?”

Hermione reached up to touch the diadem on her head and sighed. “Probably.”

“Then it's most definitely a date then,” said Malfoy, smiling at her and leading her into the jungle.

After a while of walking without saying anything, Hermione couldn't take the silence anymore. “You know, it's a little disconcerting, you being so nice.”

“It is a bit,” agreed Malfoy. “And you not yelling at me feels definitely off. Don't worry though. I'm sure it won't last long. I'm bound to do something to fuck it up. Until then, let's just enjoy it, shall we?” Malfoy plucked a flower growing along the path and handed it to Hermione in what was supposed to be a romantic gesture.

Hermione glared at him. “Congratulations, Malfoy. It hasn't been two minutes, and you've already fucked it up.”

“What? It's just a rose. It's not like I picked any of those man-eating flowers over there.”

“This is the Weasley twins we're talking about. Do you really believe it's just an ordinary rose? Roses don't even grow in the jungle.”

Malfoy had to admit she had a point, but he was only willing to admit that to himself. “It's a rose,” he said dismissively. “It's romantic. If it is one of their joke products, it's probably one from the back room. So, I'll more than likely get lucky as a result of it. Everything thing they do pushes us closer together. If I didn't already know they were idiots, I would think they were trying to set us up.”

Hermione eyed the rose warily. But it really was beautiful. The reddest rose she had ever seen. And as nothing seemed to be happening, who was she to argue with Malfoy being romantic? She hadn't thought that even possible. Feeling very much like Eve taking the apple from the snake, quite an apt description really, Hermione reached out for the rose. Vines immediately shot out and entwined their hands together, continuing to slither around their arms in a tight coil. Hermione only had a minute to glare at him before the vines wrapped around their waists and tightened. Their bodies were now pressed closely together and in the perfect position to... tango.

“Er, may I have this dance?” asked Malfoy.

“Do I have a choice?” asked Hermione angrily.

“No,” replied Malfoy, stuffing the rose in her mouth before she could retort. Wrapping his free arm around her, he lead her elegantly across the jungle floor in the dance of love or lurf as he now preferred to think of it. The vines moved with them, twisting and maneuvering to accommodate the dance. Malfoy was an excellent dancer, his mother had made sure of it, but his partner was not being very cooperative. “Would you stop trying to lead?” he finally snapped.

While Hermione had never danced the tango with an actual partner, she had read about it and was familiar enough with the steps to feel confident that she could take over the lead. She liked to be in control and saw no reason why the male should always get to be the dominant partner. Besides, Malfoy wasn't doing it right. She spit out the rose so she could tell him. “You are going in the wrong direction. The Whiz-Bangs are over there,” she said, moving their entwined arms and pointing them in the right direction.

“If I dance us toward the Whiz-Bangs, will you let me lead?” asked Malfoy exasperatedly.

“I suppose,” mumbled Hermione reluctantly.

“Then hold on tight and follow me,” said Malfoy, dramatically lengthening his strides and dancing her toward the beautiful bursts of color in the distance.

Hermione did her best to keep up and couldn't help admitting to herself that this wasn't bad for a first date. They eventually found their rhythm, and she released herself to the dance. As the passion and heat intensified between them, Malfoy finally ended the dance with an abrupt twirl, ending in a deep dip. Breathing heavily, they both stared into each others eyes until Hermione's eyes fluttered shut, and Malfoy leaned in to kiss her. However, before his lips reached hers, the spell lapsed, loosening the grasp of the vines, and Hermione fell to the ground with a thud. “Ow.”

“Sorry,” Malfoy said, holding out a hand to pull her up and trying not to laugh.

Hermione pushed his hand away and picked herself off the floor. “Not a very smooth dancer, are you?”

“Maybe I just need a little more practice,” he said, reaching out for another flower.

“Don't you dare,” warned Hermione.

“Note to self. Granger is not a flower kind of girl.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“I'm just saying...”

“No, I'm trying to listen.”

Malfoy listened for a while and finally said, “I don't hear anything.”

“I think we should change directions,” said Hermione out of the blue.

“You mean go back? Because that's the only scenario where I see us staying on the path.”

“We are not going back.” Hermione stated with authority in her voice as though she were in charge.

“Well, I am not going off the path,” returned Malfoy obstinately.

Hermione gave him an exasperated look. “It's not like we'll get lost. I do know how to do a Directional Spell. It's basic magic. I've been able to do one since I was eleven.”

“Yes, I am quite aware that you know how to do everything. I did go to school with you for six years. Your being a know-it-all was a bit hard to miss with all of the incessant hand waving going on.

Hermione scowled and started to give him an angry retort but then her expression softened, and she simply said, “Oh.”

“What do you mean, 'oh'?” He didn't like her tone. It resonated with something a little too close to pity for his liking.

“Well, I can do a Lumos if you want.”

“I am not afraid of the dark!”

“Then there isn't a reason why we have to stick to the path.” Hermione insisted. “You're just being difficult.”

“There is a reason. It's because I said so.”

“That's a stupid reason.”

“There are no stupid reasons, only stupid people who won't listen to reason.”

“I would listen to reason if I could hear any.”

“Well, how about this? Follow the right path. Follow the path with the least resistance. Follow the path of righteousness. Follow, follow, follow the yellow brick road. Do you notice what all of those sayings have in common? They all mean you should stay on the fucking path!”

“You've seen The Wizard of Oz?”

“That's not the point.” 

“Is the point that you need a brain?” asked Hermione sarcastically.”Because that's something we can both agree on.”

Malfoy glared at her. “The point is that we're staying on the path whether you like it or not. And I'm not the Scarecrow in this scenario, by the way. I'm Dorothy. Just trying to find my fucking way home.”

“Are you implying that I'm the Scarecrow?” asked Hermione indignantly. 

“No, of course not. You're more like Dodo or whatever the dog's name is. You know, obediently following me, occasionally pawing and licking me.”

Hermione got a scary look on her face. “The dog? You think I'm the dog in this scenario!”

“Or maybe the Wicked Witch.” Draco was quick to amend.

“I am not following the fucking path!”

“You will because I say you will. We made a bet. You lost. You are at the mercy of my every nonsexual whim. If I say we should sing and skip while we follow the path, you'll sing and skip.”

“Malfoy, I realize you're wacked out on a power trip right now, and completely out of your mind, but I really don't think staying on this particular path is a good idea.”

“And I really don't think it's a good idea to leave the path and wonder off on one of your silly adventures that always end up with someone in the Hospital Wing. And since I am the commander here, my opinion is the only one that matters. So, you and your breasts and your tight little ass can stick to the path as per my order.”

“You know what? Fine. Let's just get this over with and get to the part where I say, I told you so.”

“After you,” said Malfoy, bowing mockingly.

“Oh, I don't think so.” Hermione laughed. “You're the idiot who wants to stick to the path, you can lead.”

“I will lead but because I'm the commander not an idiot.”

“We'll see about that,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

“You know what your problem is?” said Malfoy, starting down the path.

“You?” grumbled Hermione, grudgingly following him..

“No. Your problem is that you're too smart, and people who are too smart have no common sense. Any normal person would want stick to the path, but not you. You know 'spells'. Enough spells to get us both killed. And to make it even worse, you also suffer from an acute case of Gryffindoritis.”

“Gryffindor what?”

“Gryffindoritis,” Malfoy said over his shoulder. “A horrible, sometimes fatal, condition of false bravado that blinds your judgment and results in rash behavior, stupid decisions and even stupider friends. You're lucky you're here with me and not those two idiot sidekicks of yours. They probably would have just blindly followed you out into the jungle. They wouldn't have even thought to challenge you because they are inflicted with it as well. Fortunately, I'm a Slytherin, and therefore I'm immune.”

“You want to know what I think?”

“What?”

“You're a moron.”

“You don't get a lot of second dates, do you?”

“I could say the same about you,” threatened Hermione.

“Well, this date would be going a little better if you would walk next to me instead of two feet behind me.”

“I think I prefer long distance dating at the moment.”

“You just want to check out my ass, don't you?”

“Narcissist,” muttered Hermione, shifting her gaze up to avoid any further temptation. The view wasn't as nice. “Um, Malfoy?”

“What?” asked Malfoy, turning around to look at her. “Why are you stopping? We've almost caught up to the Whiz-Bangs. Sulking because you're mad that I was right?”

“No, snapped Hermione, unable to hold in her glare. “I think we've reached the point where I say, I told you so.”

“What?”

Hermione pointed up. “I told you so.”

Malfoy looked up and screamed.


	52. Scared Silly

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!”

“Malfoy, don't move!”

“Aaaahhh! Oof! Aahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“You idiot! I tell you not to move, and you move. That is so typical of you.”

“Aaahhhhhhh! Aaahhh! Aaahhhhhhh!”

“I mean, would it kill you to listen to me one time? Because, apparently, it can kill you not to.”

“Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaaahhhhh!”

“Relationships are about communication. We need to listen to one another, or this is never going to work out.”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“And furthermore...”

“Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“Malfoy, would you shut up? I am trying to talk to you.”

Malfoy stopped mid-scream and scowled at her. “You are the worst fucking girlfriend in the history of the Wizarding World!”

“I am not! I... Wait. You really think of me as your girlfriend?” Hermione asked, her eyes going wide.

“Granger, focus!”

“Oh, right,” Hermione replied, trying to pull herself together. “Now, where was I?”

“If the answer to that question isn't saving my life, we are breaking up!” Malfoy fumed.

Hermione pursed her lips in indignation. “If you weren't such a moron, I wouldn't have to save you. And I should be the one breaking up with you! This is all your fault, Malfoy. You and your stupid power trip are completely responsible for the situation we're in now,” she accused. “I told you we shouldn't follow the path. But no. You wouldn't listen to me. You never listen to me. I knew this was going to happen. I frigging told you so!”

“You told me so! Really? Because I don't seem to remember you mentioning a giant fucking spider! I'm pretty sure I would have remembered that!” yelled Malfoy, struggling to free himself from the enormous web that he was now caught in. 

“It's an Acromantula, actually,” Hermione corrected calmly as if they were in class, and there wasn't a monstrous eight-legged creature, hovering high above them about to eat Malfoy for lunch.

“What!” Malfoy snapped, stopping his struggle in the web to stare at her in disbelief.

“It's an Acromantula. A wizard-bred...”

“I don't care what the fuck it is,” Malfoy yelled. “Kill it!”

“I'm trying to think of a spell–”

“Just Avada it!”

“That's an Unforgivable!” Hermione exclaimed. “I can't do that!”

“It's a fucking spider!”

“Acromantula!”

“Whatever!”

“It's a magical creature. I'm not doing it,” Hermione stated firmly, not willing to budge on the matter.

When Malfoy realized she was seriously not going to kill it, he immediately started screaming again. “Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“Oh, that's real mature,” huffed Hermione, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!”

“If you're going to be my... boyfriend,” she said, stumbling slightly over the word, “you're going to have to accept that you are not always going to get your way.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“I mean, Acromantulas are practically an endangered species. It's not like I can just kill it, and there won't be any repercussions.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! 

“It could effect the whole balance of nature.”

“Aaaaahhhhhh!

“If this relationship is going to work out, you're going to have to realize that some of the time, well, most of the time really, I am going to be right.”

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!”

“And screaming and throwing tantrums because you're not getting your way is just childish. And annoying.”

Malfoy stopped screaming but only so he could scowl at her. “Oh, I'm sorry,” he spat out sarcastically. “Is my impending death bothering you?” 

“Yes. As a matter of fact it is. I am trying to think of a spell that is appropriate for the situation, so that I can save your sorry ass, and YOU ARE STRESSING ME OUT!”

“You're stressing out?” Malfoy snapped. “A fucking spider is about to eat me! And if you say Acromantula again, I swear I'm going to–”

Hermione cut him off with her own piercing scream. “Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!” 

“Now who's being childish and annoying?” he asked pointedly.

Hermione pointed up at the monstrous creature, now making its way toward Malfoy, and answered him with another, “Aaaaahhhhhhh!”

Looking up, Malfoy's immediate reply was, “Aaaaahhhhhhh!” 

Hermione's response back was pretty much the same. “Aaaaahhhhh!”

The conversation continued on in that way for a while until Malfoy finally yelled, “Just cast a fucking spell!”

Finally snapping out of it, Hermione determinedly pointed her wand and shouted, “Confundus!”

Malfoy looked at Hermione in confusion for a moment and then he finally barked out, “Confundus? Of all the fucking spells, you go with Confundus!”

“That is a perfectly good spell,” Hermione huffed defensively.

“Maybe if I was trying out for Quidditch,” Malfoy replied sarcastically, giving her a knowing look.

Hermione glared at him. “Well, it's not eating you, is it?”

“No, but now it looks like its hungry for something else. Like it wants to spread its eight legs and have wild jungle sex with me. I can see the lust in its eyes.”

Hermione bit back a smile. “I don't know. Those four eyes over there might be lurf.”

Malfoy scowled. “If making me this spider's bitch is your brilliant idea of saving me–”

“Oh, it won't save you,” Hermione answered matter-of-factly. “Females almost always kill the male after mating. Usually by eating them.”

“So, what you're saying is that I'm in the exact same predicament as before except that now there's a possibility of me getting off first. If I was into having kinky spider sex, WHICH I AM NOT!”

“If by getting off, you mean your 'you know what' getting ripped off during reproduction, then yes.”

Malfoy looked down at his favorite appendage and then up at the creature hovering not so far above him. Needless to say, he completely freaked out. Some people just preferred not to be sexually informed. 

“Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“Malfoy, I don't think it's a good idea to thrash around like that,” Hermione cautioned. 

“Aaaaaahhhhh!” 

Either Malfoy couldn't hear her over his screams, or once again, he wasn't listening to her. He continued to flail about uselessly, and the vibrations he was inadvertently making on the web seemed to be exciting the beast.

“Stop moving!” Hermione hissed. “It thinks you are engaging in a mating ritual.”

“Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“Don't make me have to say I told you so again.”

“IFTHATFUCKINGSPIDERRIPSMYDICKOFFBECAUSEYOUCAN'TFUCKINGUSEANAVADAONAFUCKINGSPIDERLIKEANORMALPERSON,THESEXUALTENSIONBETWEENUSISNEVERGOINGTOBERESOLVEDANDYOUAREGOINGTOREGRETMISSINGOUTONTHEBESTFUCKOFYOURLIFE,ANDTHENIAMGOINGTOTELLYOUIFUCKINGTOLDYOUSO!”

Hermione gave Malfoy a look of pity. Apparently he was so scared he could only speak incoherent gibberish now. “What?”

“Save me!”

“Oh, right. Let's see. I could... no. That's not good. There's always–”

“Just cast a fucking spell already!”

Hermione glared, but never the less, shouted the first spiderish-sounding spell that popped into her head. “Tarantallegra!” 

The monstrous creature's eight legs immediately started dancing uncontrollably, violently shaking the web and Malfoy along with it. 

“Are you trying to get me killed!” Malfoy shouted.

“No. I am trying to save you, and you are being an ungrateful git!” Hermione exclaimed angrily. 

“If this is how you save people, I think I'd rather die. Maybe next time you think about saving me you should just kill me instead and put me out of my fucking misery!”

“Don't tempt me!”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“Oh, don't start that again, you big baby. Finite Incantatem,” said Hermione, pointing her wand at the flailing beast in order to stop the dance of death and save Malfoy from getting trampled. He was so high maintenance. Her spell apparently canceled out more than just the one spell as the monstrous creature suddenly began to shrink until it was about half the size of a knut. Hermione looked at the tiny eight-legged creature in disappointment. After all the drama, it ended up being rather anti-climatic. She finally said, “Huh. I guess it was just a spider after all.”

“Ha! I told you so!” exclaimed Malfoy triumphantly. “So much for being the smartest fucking witch of your age.” Unfortunately, his triumph didn't last very long because as soon as the little spider started moving toward him, his shrill scream returned. “Aaaaaahhh!”

“What's the matter, Malfoy?“ asked Hermione, obviously amused. “It's just a little spider.” 

As the spider got closer, Malfoy started blowing furiously to keep it from crawling on his face. “I hate fucking spiders! Get it off me! Get it off me!“

“You sound like Ron.” Hermione laughed, but nevertheless, vanished the spider.

“That's it! This date is over!”

“I think you are being a little over-dramatic.”

“You almost let a spider molest me to death, and even worse, you compared me to Weasel,” Malfoy fumed.

“If you would have listened to me in the first place and not insisted on staying on the path, none of this would have even happened,” Hermione retorted.

“No. Something else horrible would have happened. We probably would have been eaten by tulips or something equally degrading. Those Weasley twins are a menace.”

“Well, I'm not going to argue with that.”

“That would be a first,” Malfoy grumbled.

Hermione glared. “It takes two to argue, you know.”

“It also takes two to have sex, but we haven't done that yet, have we?”

“And who says we're going to?” Hermione snapped.

“Come on,” said Malfoy, rolling his eyes. “I think we both know we're going to. Eventually.”

“I don't know any such thing,” Hermione replied haughtily.

Malfoy eyed her up and down, carefully appraising her until she began to squirm under his intense gaze. He finally smirked. “You want to have sex with me right now, don't you?”

“No!” she quickly exclaimed.

“Just admit it. You're completely turned on by all of this,” said Malfoy, nodding at the web he was still trapped in.

“I... Oh, alright,” Hermione admitted. “I am a little. But only because of the diadem. And you're so cute when you're helpless.”

“I'm not helpless!”

Hermione arched her eyebrow. “So, you're saying you don't need my help?”

“No, I don't. I'm just as clever as you are. I could easily get out of this stupid web all by myself if I had to,” insisted Malfoy.

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest. “Aright, let's see it then.”

“See what?”

“Let's see you get out of the web. Without my help.”

“And deprive you of your incessant need to save people?”

“I don't have a 'saving people' complex; that's Harry. I'm perfectly okay with leaving you here to the mercy of the Weasley twins.”

Malfoy scowled. “You wouldn't dare.”

“Wouldn't I?” She smirked back.

“Just get me out of this,” Malfoy growled, struggling in the web.

“I would be happy to. If you admit that you need my help.”

“Then you admit that you want me,” countered Malfoy.

“I already admitted–“

“No, you didn't,” Malfoy interrupted. “You blamed it on the diadem. Again.”

“That's because the diadem–“

“I hate that fucking thing,” Malfoy snapped, scowling at it. “I can't wait until it's destroyed.”

Hermione looked at him in surprise. “But why? Don't you like me lusting after you?”

“Of course I do, but I'm tired of you using it as an excuse. And I'm really tired of having to compete with paintings and fucking Weasleys,” he said bitterly. “I'm ready to be the only one you lust after.”

“But how can you be so sure that I'll still lust after you without an evil horny Horcrux stuck on my head? Maybe I'll just want to be friends. Or acquaintances.”

“Please,” said Malfoy, as though the thought of her finding him anything less than desirable was completely ridiculous. “Of course you'll still lust after me. I'm not known as the Slytherin sex god for nothing.”

Hermione looked at him somewhat skeptically. “Are all those rumors really true?”

Malfoy smirked sexily at her. “They're true enough.” 

Drawing in her breath sharply, Hermione couldn't help saying, “Merlin help me, but I want you so badly right now.”

“So, what's stopping you? I'm not go anywhere,” said Malfoy, wiggling in the web to prove his point. 

“I'll say you're not.” Hermione smirked back, a predatory glint in her eyes. She had the sudden urge to dominate him until he was screaming himself silly again, but quickly shaking the untoward feeling off, she said quite practically, “But it is hardly the right time for that kind of thing.”

“It's always the right time for that kind of thing,” Malfoy insisted.

“We're in the middle of a war,” Hermione pointed out.

“So, the Weasley twins can wait.”

“I meant the war with Voldemort.”

“Oh,” said Malfoy, his expression turning serious. “Well, way to kill the mood, Granger.”

“Sorry, but it really is the wrong time.”

“But when is it ever going to be the right time?” Malfoy asked, the exasperation clear in his voice. “When the war is over? When your friends accept us? When my parents accept us?”

“I thought you said you would wait until I was ready.” 

“Yes, but not forever.”

“Well, how about waiting long enough to get through the first date at least,” she snapped.

“Look,” began Malfoy with a sigh, “I want you. I'm not going to be sorry about that.”

Not sure how to respond to that, Hermione said a little awkwardly, “Just so you know that I'm not easy. Without the diadem, I mean.”

Malfoy snorted. “I am very aware that nothing about you is easy. You somehow manage to complicate everything.”

“I do not,” Hermione huffed, ready to argue to the death.

“Then kiss me,” said Malfoy, throwing her off guard.

“How is that going to prove anything?”

“It's not. I just want you to kiss me,” he said, giving her a roguish smile.

Hermione smiled back at him. “Sometimes, when you're not being a complete jerk, you can be really sweet.”

“And sometimes, when you're not being a complete swot, you can be really sexy.”

Hermione scowled in response.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I thought we were handing out backhanded compliments.”

“You're lucky I–”

“Like me? Lust me? Lurf me?”

“That is not what I was going to say.”

“Lick me? Well, alright, Granger, but just so you know, I usually don't go that far on a first date. But for you, I'll make an exception.” He winked at her.

“Leave you. I was going to say, you're lucky I don't leave you.”

“Come on, we both know your not leaving me has nothing to do with luck.”

“What does it have to do with then?”

“My good looks, my clever repartee, my charming personality, my ability to make witches melt into a puddle. Did I mention my good looks?”

“You really should do something about that low self-esteem of yours,” said Hermione dryly.

“Well, I don't like to brag,” said Malfoy, feigning modesty. “I didn't mention my extreme intelligence or expertise with a wand, now did I?”

Hermione swallowed hard and pretended not to notice him looking down at his trousers when he mentioned his expertise with a wand. “If you were really so smart you wouldn't still be in this web. In fact, you wouldn't be in it at all.”

“I'm man enough to let you save my ass. Particularly since you seem to be so fond of it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but didn't bother to deny it. She was growing rather fond of it and the rest of him too. Using a Severing Charm, she carefully began cutting him out of the web. She had half of him free when her wand brushed against his side, and Malfoy let out an uncharacteristic giggle. Holding back her smile, Hermione “accidentally” touched his side again with the tip of her wand. 

Malfoy let out another giggle and then glared at her. “Stop it.”

“What's the matter?” asked Hermione innocently. “Are you ticklish?”

“No. Malfoys are not ticklish. It's undignified.”

“Oh, really?” said Hermione, smirking as she reached toward him with her wand again.

Before her wand could touch him, he grabbed her with his free hand and pulled her into the web with him. 

Hermione glared. “Way to go. Now, we're both stuck.”

“Is that so bad?” asked Malfoy huskily, leaning in closer and looking very much as though he was about to kiss her.

“Oh, um, well,” Hermione stammered, unable to take her eyes off of his approaching lips. “Let me get back to you on that?”

Malfoy smiled and closed the almost nonexistent gap between them with a searing kiss that would have left any witch weak in the knees. It was slow and deep and perfect. It was a kiss that any sex god would be proud of. Reluctantly pulling out of the kiss, he looked at her expectantly. “Well?”

After what seemed like an eternity of contemplation, Hermione finally blurted out, “I don't see any fireworks.”

Malfoy scowled. That was not the kind of response he was expecting. Anything other than a moan of appreciation or a satisfied sigh was pretty much an insult as far as he was concerned. “Well, you can't expect to see fireworks every time we kiss,” he huffed in annoyance, completely offended by her reaction. “If you ask me, you're being a little picky. That was a perfectly good kiss. In fact, it was more than good. It was great. Spectacular even. But if you want fireworks, I'll give you bloody fireworks.” And with a determined look on his face, he started to pull her in for another kiss.

Hermione pushed him away and rolled her eyes. “I was talking about the Whiz Bangs. I don't see them anymore.”

“Oh,” said Malfoy, sounding relieved and pulling her toward him again. “Who cares about those Whiz Bangs when we can be making fireworks of our own?”

As if on cue, the Weasley twins popped into view and gave Malfoy something to care about. Drawing their weapons, they aimed at Malfoy and fired. Pink paint exploded all over him. Hermione watched as Malfoy, looking slightly stunned, blinked the pink paint out of his eyes, and she couldn't help but laugh. He looked ridiculous. 

“I'm guessing you care,” Hermione choked out, “unless you've suddenly decided you like your hair pink.”

“Fucking Weasleys!” Malfoy yelled.

That made Hermione laugh even harder. In fact, she was so busy laughing at Malfoy's expense that she didn't even think to raise a shield around them. So, it kind of served her right when she received two shots straight to the chest. Expecting the blasts of paint to be painful, or at the very least, ice cold like the water had been, she was pleasantly surprised to discover that it felt warm and tingly. Perhaps, the twins had decided to go easy on her. 

However, when she looked down, she discovered that was not the case. Instead of seeing pink paint like she expected, she saw two pink nipples poking out of her shirt. Apparently, she had been shot with some kind of Vanishing Spray. Leave it to the Weasley twins to come up with a product that could easily remove clothing. Lazy, pervy bastards. Feeling leering eyes on her, Hermione did the only logical thing she could think to do under the circumstances. She grabbed Malfoy by the ears and rubbed his face all over her chest. Well, it seemed logical at the time anyway. She never was very good under pressure.

“Don't say a word,” Hermione growled at Malfoy through clenched teeth, her cheeks almost as pink as his hair. It was hard to tell because of all the pink paint, but Hermione was pretty sure he was smirking. Doing her best to ignore it, Hermione quickly worked on untangling Malfoy from the web before the Weasley twins really let loose, and she lost all of her clothes.

The Weasley twins looked on in disgust. “I can't believe it,” Fred grumbled. “She just rubbed her breasts in his face. In his frigging face. No matter what we do to him, Malfoy always gets off better.”

“And we never get off at all.” George nodded glumly.

“Perhaps, we should work out our frustrations with a little target practice,” suggested Fred, his lips turning a mischievous shade of purple.

“Funny, I was thinking the exact same thing,” answered George with an impish grin. “Must be a twin thing.”

“You mean like how we can finish each others sentences?”

“Exactly. In fact, I pretty sure I can finish your next sentence.” 

“Ready?” Fred smirked.

“Aim,” replied George, drawing his gun at the exact same time as his twin.

“Fire!” they both shouted. 

Fortunately, Hermione had already finished getting Malfoy out of the web when the twins opened fire on them, and she was able to almost immediately produce a perfect Shield Spell. Unfortunately, thanks to the twins high-powered weapons, they still received a few dozen hits. Hermione was missing parts of her skirt and the whole bottom half of her shirt. And the front of Malfoy was covered in pink paint from head to toe.

“I think we should retreat,” said Malfoy, angrily spitting out pink paint along with his words.

“We can't retreat,” Hermione declared adamantly. “That's the same as admitting defeat.”

“And what do you propose we do, little miss know-it-all?”

“We fight of course.”

“With what? My little toy water guns? Oh, I forgot. I threw those away. Because they were fucking useless!”

“I have my wand.”

“You would have to take down the shield to use it, and I am not getting hit with anymore pink paint. Unless of course, you're planning on rubbing your tits in my face again,” he couldn't help adding with a smirk.

“Fat chance,” Hermione spat.

“Then I think you should Apparate us out of here.”

“No, I told you that's a bad idea.”

“Perhaps, I should have phrased that differently. I command you to Apparate us out of here,” said Malfoy, giving her a smug look.

Hermione glared but angrily grabbed hold of him for a Side Along. Making sure he was between her and the Weasley twins, she gave him her own smug look and dropped the shield. Needless to say, she paused quite a bit longer than was entirely necessary before finally turning and Apparating them away.

“You did that on purpose,” Malfoy sputtered, dripping pink paint all over their new surroundings. 

“You deserved it. You're lucky I didn't Splinch you too. In case you hadn't noticed,” said Hermione, poking him hard in the chest, “I don't like being ordered around.”

“Then you shouldn't make bets you can't win,” Malfoy returned, poking her back just as hard. “Until then, you can follow my orders. Now be a good little girl and remove all of this pink paint. And in case you didn't figure it out already, that's an order.”

Grudgingly, Hermione pointed her wand at Malfoy and bitterly muttered, “Tergeo.”

“ALL of the pink paint,” said Malfoy, smirking and nodding his head toward her.

Hermione looked down at the pink paint still clinging to her otherwise naked breasts and then back up at Malfoy. Pursing her lips, she shook her head. “Nice try,” she replied, casting a Reparo on her shirt before using the Tergeo Spell on herself.

“Not a very fun first date, are you?” Malfoy grumbled. 

“I don't know what are you talking about. Didn't you have fun getting shot in the ass? It looked like you were having a blast.”

“A vicious attack on my ass by the Weasley twins is not my idea of a good time. My ass is still tingling from it. And not in a good way. Did you get all of the pink paint off of it?” asked Malfoy, turning his back toward her and wiggling his rear end for inspection. 

Hermione's eyes widened slightly at the sight of Malfoy's backside, but all she said was, “I don't see anything.”

“Are you sure? Because you're staring. And I think you might be drooling a little.”

Hermione looked up, and blushing slightly, snapped, “I don't see anything other than the dumb ass standing in front of me.”

“You're just mad because I was right and you were wrong. See? I told you so. We Apparated, and nothing bad is happening.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, vines immediately wrapped around Hermione's wrists and raised them over her head. Before she could even glare at him, two more shot out and spread her legs apart.

“Any other clever observations you'd like to make?” she asked sarcastically.

Malfoy smirked back at her. “Looks like this is turning out to be a pretty good first date after all.”


	53. Verbose Voyeurs

Crack! With weapons drawn, the twins popped into a small clearing, near the outskirts of the parlor jungle, effectively cutting off the path to the kitchen door. Expecting to catch Hermione and Malfoy unawares and ambush the hell out of them, the twins were disappointed when their victims were nowhere to be found. 

“You always were crap at location spells,” Fred muttered, putting down his weapon in defeat.

“There was nothing wrong with that spell,” insisted George, continuing to point his high-powered paint gun in all directions. “They're here. I know it.”

“If they're here, why haven't they fired at us already? Malfoy may be a cowardly little shit, but Hermione is Gryffindor through and through. If I know Hermione, and I think I know Hermione,” said Fred, giving his brother a wink, “she would already have some kind of over-complicated plan of attack and would be bossing Malfoy around in that cute, little know-it-all way of hers.”

“You're right,” admitted George, his lips starting to curve up into a smile. “She would do that. Unless...”

“Unless what?”

“Unless she was a little tied up at the moment.” George grinned and nodded his head at the camouflaged tangle of vines and limbs just off to their left. 

Hermione and Malfoy were too wrapped up in vines and each other to even notice the twins, much less put up a fight. And any kind of real battle was out of the question as the two former enemies were already engaged in their own dueling activities. With their tongues. 

“Lucky I'm over her,” declared Fred, unable to take his eyes off of the amorous couple. “Otherwise, I might be green with envy right now.”

“I've got news for you.” George smirked. “You are green with envy. According to your mood lipstick anyway.”

Fred rubbed angrily at his lips. “Fine. I'm a little envious, but who wouldn't want to be in that position? Or that one,” said Fred, turning his head at an angle as he watched the twisting, writhing couple in front of him.

“Well, I suppose we'll have to give this one to Malfoy,” George grudgingly admitted, conjuring a bowl of popcorn and shoving a handful into his mouth. “On the bright side, the Devil's Sex Snare seems to be a big hit. Perhaps we should get a picture for the advert.”

“Already on it,” replied Fred, snapping a picture of the snogging couple.

“Make sure you get some extra copies for... just in case.” 

“I always do, don't I?” answered Fred, taking a picture out of his pocket just as Ron, Harry and Ginny suddenly stumbled into the clearing.

“Bloody hell,” said Ron, walking up to Fred and snatching the picture out of his hands. “Is that Hermione naked with an owl?”

“Twenty Galleons,” replied Fred immediately, holding out his hand. “And because your my brother, I'll throw in a nice gilded frame for free.”

“Hey, Harry, can I–” 

“No,” replied Harry, cutting him off. 

Ron turned his eyes to Ginny none too hopefully.

“Get a fucking girlfriend,” was Ginny's unsympathetic reply.

Reluctantly, Ron handed the picture back to Fred. 

“Don't worry, bro,” said George, his mouth full of popcorn. “There's free wanking material right in front of you.”

“Bloody hell,” said Ron again, finally noticing Hermione and Malfoy, who were half covered in vines. “Is that a new bondage product?”

“Yep,” said Fred proudly. “Devil's Sex Snare. What do you think?”

“It's bloody brilliant,” said Ron, grabbing a big handful of popcorn, his eyes glued to the ensnared couple. “Boody briffrant.”

“You're disgusting,” said Ginny, pushing Ron out of the way and helping herself to some popcorn. “Can't you see they're having a private moment here?”

“Well, if it's such a private moment, they shouldn't be having it in the middle of the parlor then, should they? This is the parlor, isn't it?” asked Ron, looking a little uncertainly at the jungle surroundings. 

“They can't help themselves,” insisted Ginny. “They're in love.”

“Lurf,” replied Ron, Harry and the twins at the same time.

“Whatever,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes, “the point is, Ron's a pervert. They deserve some privacy.”

Ron gave his little sister a superior look. “You're too naive to understand this kind of thing, but some people like being watched. They actually get off on it. Who are we to judge?” Almost in the same breath, he added, “Merlin, he sure is taking a bloody long time to get to it, isn't he?”

“He's been playing with that ribbon on her knickers for ages now,” said George. “Too much of a pussy to actually pull on it and get some actual pussy.”

“Sex god, my ass,” Fred muttered bitterly.

“He's being romantic,” Ginny said, glaring at her brothers. “Something you three goons wouldn't know anything about. You think it's romantic, don't you, Harry?” She looked at him shyly through lowered lashes.

“Er... oh, popcorn,” replied Harry, quickly grabbing a handful and shoving it in his mouth to avoid any other uncomfortable questions.

Ginny scowled and shoved her own handful of popcorn into her mouth.

Aside from the occasional snarky comment and smacking of food (Ron), they watched the writhing, undulating tangle of vines and limbs in relative silence until Hermione and Malfoy suddenly changed positions and gave their audience and unexpected change of scenery. 

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Ron, spitting popcorn out of his mouth. “What the hell happened to Malfoy's trousers?”

“Um, I might have accidentally hit him with the Vanishing Spray,” Fred admitted sheepishly.

“Geez, Fred. You trying to blind us?” asked George, rubbing his eyes exaggeratedly at the sight of the two perfectly round, cheek-sized holes in the back of Malfoy's trousers.

“I was aiming for Hermione,” Fred said, defending himself. “It's not my fault, she pulled him in front of her when she Apparated.”

“Ugh, and here I thought I'd seen the last of that pasty ass,” grumbled Ginny.

“You've seen it before?” Harry couldn't help asking in an accusing tone.

“You know I have,” said Ginny indignantly. “You caught us naked in the hall together last night after we gave Fed and George the makeover.”

“You were there?” Harry asked incredulously.

Ginny glared.

Harry looked to Ron. “Did you know she was there?”

“Dude, Hermione was naked. I didn't even know Malfoy was there.”

“I wasn't there when Ron was there. I was... Oh, never mind!” Ginny huffed in annoyance.

“Ugh, enough already,” groaned George. 

“He started it,” grumbled Ginny, glaring over at Harry, who seemed to have found something extremely interesting on his shoes.

“No. I mean enough with the kissing already,” clarified George, nodding his head at Hermione and Malfoy. “He's kissed her mouth, her neck, her cleavage, her mouth again. Bor-ing. We need some more action and soon or this product is going to be a flop.”

“Perhaps, we could add some kind of charm,” said Fred thoughtfully.

“Oh, look!” exclaimed Ginny excitedly. “His hand is moving under her blouse. He's playing with her nipples now. That's sexy.”

“It would be sexier if we could actually see what's going on,” Ron whined. “Maybe you could add a heating charm, so they have to take off their clothes.”

George whipped out a notebook and started writing.

“Or,” said Fred, “we could just put in an automatic clothing removal charm. That should do the trick.”

“That's why we say you're the clever one in the family. After me, of course,” quipped George, scratching out what he had just written and writing down Fred's idea instead.

“Hey!” exclaimed Ron indignantly. “I was the one who thought of taking off their clothes.”

“Pervert,” said Ginny again.

Ron responded by throwing a handful of popcorn at her.

“I dare you to try that again,” growled Ginny, angrily shaking the popcorn out of her hair.

Giving her a smug look, Ron reached his hand into the bowl again. However, as soon as he tried to grab a handful, his fingers started quivering violently. Unable to control himself, he ended up dumping over the whole bowl.

“Hey! That was my popcorn you just dumped,” said George, giving Ron an annoyed look.

“It was her fault,” protested Ron, pointing a shaking finger at Ginny accusingly. “She put a Jelly-Fingers Curse on me.”

“I would have gone with a Jelly-Brain Curse but no one would have been able to tell the difference,” quipped Ginny.

“Oh, ha ha,” replied Ron, not at all amused. “Well, maybe I should go with the Leg-Locker Curse on you. I guarantee EVERYONE would know the difference.”

“I am still a virgin!” Ginny shouted angrily.

“If you haven't lost it yet, it's not for lack of trying, now is it?” retorted Ron.

“You bloody bastard. Are you looking for a duel?”

“Maybe I am, but don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're my sister.”

“Well, don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're a MORON.”

“That's it,” fumed Ron, raising his wand. “I've had enough with the stupid comments.”

“What's the problem? Too dumb to understand them?” taunted Ginny.

“Good one.” Fred laughed.

“You want to duel, too, Fred?” asked Ron, glaring at him.

“I'm not Fred; I'm George. You can get even with me later... while I'm sleeping,” Fred added in a loud whisper.

“George usually sleeps in my bed though, so you can get even with him there,” said George, thinking himself clever. Then noticing their stares, he said, “What? We're twins. That's not weird.”

“Everything about you two is weird,” Ginny retorted. “Now, get out of the way, there are going to be bogies flying soon.”

“The Bat Bogey Hex?” Ron snorted. “Can you get any more obvious?”

“If I really wanted to be obvious, I would go with Stupify – stupid.”

Ron glared. “You know what Mum always says. If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all,” he replied, hitting his sister with a Silencing Charm.

Ginny's mouth angrily flapped up and down, spewing out a myriad of silent curse words at Ron until she finally got fed up and sent a nonverbal Hurling Hex his way. Ron flew backwards into the Devil's Sex Snare and soon found himself in a very compromising position with Hermione and Malfoy. 

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, shocked by the sudden intrusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I think the question is, what are you doing here? And with Malfoy,” said Ron in an accusing tone.

Hermione glared. “I think I could take that question more seriously if your hand wasn't currently on my breast.”

“It's not my fault,” Ron protested. “It's the Devil's Sex Snare.”

“Devil's Sex Snare?” said Hermione, her eyebrow arched. “Figures. And I suppose the Devil's Sex Snare is making you squeeze my breast, too?”

“Oh, er...” stammered Ron, turning a bright shade of red.

“Move it. Now,” ordered Hermione.

Ron adjusted himself and awkwardly found himself face to face with a scowling Malfoy.

“Your hand is on my ass,” Malfoy seethed.

Embarrassed, Ron started getting defensive. “Well, your hand is on my–”

“Don't even say it,” Malfoy snapped. “And if you even start grinding against my hand, even a little bit, I swear I will...”

“So, you think now would be a good time to add that clothing removal charm?” asked George mischievously.

Fred started laughing. “It would probably be the last thing we ever do but totally worth it. What do you say, Gin?”

Ginny smirked her silent approval, but Harry shook his head.

“Get them out of there. We have work to do,” said Harry.

“You're no fun,” pouted George. “All work and no play makes Harry a very dull boy.”

“Yeah,” agreed Fred. “When are you going to be The Boy Who Lived a Little?”

“After Voldemort is gone,” said Harry firmly and then giving Ginny a sideways glance added, “I promise. But I need Hermione and Malfoy's help to get rid of him first.”

Ginny immediately turned her wand on her brothers. Suddenly, getting rid of that snake-faced bastard Voldemort was all that mattered to her anymore. Well, that and getting in Harry's pants.

The twins looked at each other and shrugged in defeat. It was no use fighting a woman on a mission. In unison, they cast a spell and almost immediately the jungle disappeared and the parlor returned to normal. With the Devil's Sex Snare suddenly gone, Hermione, Ron and Malfoy fell to the floor in a heap. Scrambling to their feet, Ron and Malfoy couldn't get away from each other fast enough. Ron was so horrified by the experience that he Scourgified his hands. Twice.

Looking over his shoulder, Malfoy checked out the back of his trousers and then turned a shrewd gaze on Hermione. “You weren't going to tell me about this, were you?”

“I didn't notice,” she lied, not bothering to look him in the eye.

“Really?” said Malfoy skeptically, turning around for her to see the back of his trousers. “You didn't see this?”

“Uh.. no, I, um.. didn't,” Hermione stammered, staring at the two perfect round holes in his trousers.

“Well, now that you do, are you going to do something about it?” asked Malfoy pointedly.

“Uh, sure,” said Hermione absentmindedly, still transfixed on his backside.

“Well?” said Malfoy, waiting.

“Oh, bloody hell,” muttered Ron exasperatedly. Pushing her out of the way, he aimed his wand at Malfoy's trousers and said, “Reparo.”

“That better be the last thing you ever do to my ass,” Malfoy warned, checking out Ron's spell work with a critical eye.

Ron scowled at him and cast another Scourgify on his hands. “Believe me, that will be the last thing I do for you period.”

“It's such a curse having a nice ass, even Weasels want to molest you,” Malfoy sneered, giving Ron a disgusted look. Glancing over at Ginny, he added, “Don't get any ideas, Weaselette.”

Ginny scowled but didn't say a word.

“It was an accident!” Ron exploded. “A horrible, disgusting, revolting, never going to happen again accident! And you molested me. Your hand was on my... my... well, you know!”

“I unfortunately do know and therefore I also know that you didn't find my ass as horrible, disgusting and revolting as you claim. Not that I blame you really, it is an exceptionally fine piece of ass, but I don't swing that way. I'm not into Weasels.”

Ron turned a bright shade of red. “That had nothing to do with you!” he sputtered in embarrassment. “It was because of Hermione. Her breasts were pushed up against me and–”

Malfoy snorted. “Unlikely, I mean, her breasts are alright, but definitely not in the same league as my ass. But if it makes you feel better to tell yourself that then go right ahead. It's not like I don't want to forget the whole sordid affair. I'd ask you to Obliviate me, but with your shoddy spell work, I'd probably just end up puking slugs.”

Ron pointed his wand angrily at Malfoy, but Hermione stepped between them.

“Would you two stop being so immature? There is a war going on. This is not the time for your stupid, childish nonsense.”

“You're one to talk,” said Ron. “What about all this nonsense going on between you and Malfoy?”

“It's complicated,” began Hermione.

“You're wearing a slutty school girl outfit,” said Ron. “I think I can figure out what's going on here.”

“I doubt it,” mumbled Malfoy.

“That's it!” snapped Ron, pointing his wand at Malfoy. “I have had enough with everyone thinking I'm stupid. Why don't we find out just how stupid I am and see if my Transfiguration skills are up to snuff? You enjoyed your time as a ferret, right?”

Malfoy noticeably twitched and not too subtly scampered behind Hermione.

Hermione held up her hands in a placating manner. “No one thinks you're stupid, Ron.” She shut up the rumblings of dissent around her with a sharp glare and added, “And we're sorry if our words or actions have caused you to think that we feel that way about you. I mean, sure you say stupid things, but that doesn't mean you're stupid. You're just insensitive and often speak without thinking. And yes, maybe you could be doing better in school, but that's more due to lack of preparation and poor study skills than complete ineptness. And you can definitely be pretty oblivious at times, but–”

“Why are you wearing a crown?” asked Ron suddenly.

“Oh, you mean this?” asked Hermione, her hand wandering up to touch the diadem on her head. “This isn't a crown.”

“What is it then?”

“It's a diadem.”

“What's a diadem?” 

“A crown,” Hermione grudgingly admitted.

“Why don't you tell them what it really is?” Malfoy interjected.

“Because now isn't the right time,” answered Hermione through gritted teeth, glaring at him.

“Right,” said Malfoy, “because now is never the right time, is it?”

The two stood there glaring at one another before Harry finally interrupted. 

“What is going on here? Did you two get married?”

“What!” gasped Hermione in shock.

“No!” exclaimed Draco defiantly, earning himself another glare from Hermione.

Turning back to Harry, she asked, “Why would you think we're married?”

“Well,” began Harry uncomfortably, “you've been secretly living together and–”

“The reason we are living together is because I'm his babysitter,” Hermione interrupted.

Ron snorted. “Is that why you were snogging him, too? Because you're his babysitter,” he sneered.

“I was snogging him for the same reason you were squeezing my breast and fondling Malfoy's ass. It was because of the Devil's Sex Snare!” exclaimed Hermione heatedly.

“Oh, cut the crap, Hermione. We know you two were snogging because you lurf each other. Although my actions were an unfortunate result of the Devil's Sex Snare,” Ron was careful to add.

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“The point is,” Ron continued. “Malfoy is in lurf with you, and for some illogical reason that cannot be explained, you are in lurf with Malfoy.”

“I never even said I lurfed Malfoy,” Hermione huffed exasperatedly.

“You don't have to say it. It's obvious to everyone but you apparently.”

“You don't even know what lurf means, Ronald Weasley,” Hermione seethed.

“Yes, I do. I just happen to speak that language fluently,” said Ron with a superior tone to his voice.

“You're fluent in the language of lurf?” Hermione scoffed.

“No. I'm fluent in the language of speaking with my mouth full. Just after you left the table, I said that I lurfed sausages.”

“So, you're equating your feelings for sausages to our feelings for each other?” said Hermione, pointing to herself and Malfoy.

“Exactly.”

Hermione scowled. “Like I've said before, YOU have the emotional range of a TEASPOON!”

“Well, I can't speak for Weasel here,” said Malfoy, “but my lurf-like feelings will not be leading to marriage anytime soon. I'm still an eligible bachelor. For lucky females of the non-weasel persuasion that is,” he added, giving Ginny a snide look.

Ginny tried to retort but when nothing came out, she settled for sending him an Avada Kedavra-like glare. 

Malfoy looked at Ginny as if considering something, and then shaking his finger at her, finally said, “There's something different about you. I like it. Not enough to do you though.”

Ginny raised her wand, but Harry gently lowered it, giving her a pleading look. When Ginny reluctantly yielded, he removed the Silencing Charm on her and turned back to Hermione. “If you really aren't married, then why are you wearing a crown?”

“It's a diadem,” Hermione corrected, “and why are you suddenly so interested in it? Neither of you said a thing about it at the wedding or at breakfast this morning.”

“You've been wearing a crown this whole time?” Ron said incredulously, exchanging looks with Harry, who shrugged in response.

“Ron probably didn't notice before because he was so busy staring at your boobs,” said Ginny. Turning on Harry, she asked, “What's your excuse?”

“Oh,” moaned Harry, clutching his head. “My scar hurts.”

“How convenient,” said Ginny dryly.

Harry had the decency to look a little sheepish.

Taking pity on him, Hermione decided it was finally time to tell Harry the truth. “While I agree it is awfully convenient, there could be another reason for Harry's scar hurting. This isn't just any diadem. It belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw,” she said, giving Harry a pointed look. At his blank expression, she let out a dramatic sigh. “It's a Horcrux, Harry.”

“You're wearing Voldemort on your head!” exclaimed Harry in horror. 

“Technically yes,” replied Hermione.

“You need to take it off now!” Harry ordered.

“Well, it's kind of stuck at the moment, but I'm fine. Really,” she said, trying to calm him down.

“Horcruxes are dangerous, Hermione. You shouldn't mess around with them,” Harry reprimanded. “For all we know, it could turn you into some kind of maniac.”

“Yeah, like a nymphomaniac.” Malfoy laughed.

Hermione punched him in the arm. “Shut up, Malfoy.”

Harry's eyes flickered back and forth between Hermione and the diadem until it finally dawned on him. “So, that's why lately you've been so, um, er...”

Hermione's eyes darkened. “Spit it out, Harry. That's why I've been so what?”

“So, um,” sputtered Harry, looking extremely uncomfortable. “That's why you've been so...”

“Slutty,” supplied Ginny, her jealousy showing.

“Fun,” offered the twins.

“Different,” finished Harry lamely.

“It has some unfortunate side effects,” Hermione admitted bristly. “But it's not going to be a problem for much longer because we are going to destroy it along with all of the other Horcruxes. I think it's time I introduced you to R.A.B.” 

“He's here? Now?” said Harry in surprise.

“Of course, I'm here. It's my house,” boomed a voice from behind him.

“Who said that?” exclaimed Harry, whipping around and pointing his wand all over the place in a paranoid fashion.

“It's fine, Harry,” said Hermione, reassuring him. “It's just Regulus.”

“Sirius' brother?” said Harry in disbelief. “But I thought he was dead.”

“Well, he is. Sort of. Remember when I said R.A.B. hangs around Grimmauld Place? Well, I meant that in a literal sense,” said Hermione, walking over to where Regulus was hanging on the wall. “Harry, this is Regulus Arcturus Black, a.k.a R.A.B, or to those of us who know him better, the portrait from hell.”

“You can say that again,” muttered Malfoy. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” drawled Regulus.

“But this can't be R.A.B.,” said Harry, looking at Regulus skeptically. “It's just a portrait.”

“I wouldn't say I'm just a portrait,” Regulus muttered, sounding offended.

Completely ignoring him, Harry turned to Hermione. “Malfoy said R.A.B. wanted to have sex with you in exchange for the Horcruxes. If R.A.B. is just a painting, how the hell is that even possible?”

“Well, um...” stammered Hermione, at a loss for an explanation.

“Shall we give him a little show?” said Regulus, winking at Hermione.

“No,” said Malfoy, answering for Hermione.

“Definitely not,” replied Hermione, glaring at Regulus and Malfoy before turning back to Harry. “The thing is, Regulus isn't an ordinary portrait.”

“What she's trying to say is that I'm extraordinary,” boasted Regulus.

“Do not put words in my mouth,” said Hermione dryly.

Regulus smirked. “Oh, would you prefer I put something else in your mouth?” 

Gritting her teeth, Hermione did her best to ignore him and continued trying to explain things to Harry.

“He can do things that ordinary portraits can't. Like magic. And he...” Hermione paused awkwardly. “And he feels real.”

“He feels real,” Harry echoed, looking at her as though she was crazy.

Hermione nodded a bit sheepishly.

Curious, Ron stuck out his finger to touch the painting. 

However, before he could make contact, Regulus pointed his wand at him and said, “Don't even think about it, Red.”

Ron's eyes went wide, and he quickly snatched back his hand.

“Now, if she wants to give me a grope,” said Regulus, winking at Ginny, “I won't say no.” 

Ginny let out a giggle. “He's hot, Hermione. Why on earth have you been wasting your time on Malfoy when you have him around?”

“Because he's a painting. And an asshole,” replied Hermione.

“So,” said Ginny. “At least he's a work of art. Malfoy's just an asshole.”

“Forget what I said before,” said Malfoy, scowling at Ginny. “You're still the same annoying bitch you always were.”

“She's just being honest,” said Regulus, giving Ginny his most charming smile. “I don't think we've officially met, though I do have a portrait in your bedroom, so I do know you rather intimately if you know what I mean.” He held out his hand. “My name's Regulus, but you can call me Papa.”

Ginny giggled again and started to reach her hand out toward Regulus, but Harry quietly grabbed it and lowered it back down to her side.

“Oh,” said Regulus in disappointment, looking down at Harry and Ginny's entwined hands. “Since all of the sexual adventures I've had the pleasure to witness have been of the solo variety, I was under the impression you were available. Don't tell me you're going to break my heart and tell me he's your boyfriend.”

“I don't know,” said Ginny, giving Harry a pointed look. “What do you say, Harry? Are you my boyfriend?”

“Yes?” said Harry questioningly. At Ginny's ecstatic smile, he pointed his wand at Regulus and said more firmly, “Yes, I am.”

Regulus held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I get the picture. It's no big deal. I'm practically engaged anyway. Of course, if I wasn't, I'd totally nail you,” Regulus said in a loud whisper to Ginny. At Harry's glare, he said, “What? Just a little picture humor.”

“Handsome and funny,” Ginny commented, very much enjoying Harry's reaction to her flirting with Regulus.

“I'm hung, too. Want to see?” Regulus asked suggestively.

“Can you stop being creepy for two minutes?” snapped Hermione.

“Jealous?” asked Regulus, quirking his eyebrow at her.

“No,” said Hermione quickly. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because someone other than you is getting attention.”

“Who said I ever wanted that kind of attention?” retorted Hermione.

“Well, you certainly never said that you didn't want that kind of attention, now did you?” Regulus smirked. “And if you don't want to take my word for it, we can always ask Malfoy for his recollection on the subject.”

Hermione successfully avoided eye contact with Malfoy by glaring directly at Regulus.

“I have a feeling that I don't want to know the answer to this,” said Harry warily, “but I have to ask. How did you discover that Regulus felt... real?”

“Yes, why don't you tell him exactly how you discovered that?” said Malfoy, scowling at her.

Hermione looked uncomfortable. “I kissed him,” she mumbled.

“You what?” asked Harry, sure he hadn't heard her right.

“I kissed him!” snapped Hermione, angry that she had to repeat herself. Especially when it was something so stupid.

Harry looked at her incredulously. “You kissed a painting? Why would you do that?” 

“I don't know,” moaned Hermione. “He was being annoying, and I just wanted to shut him up. So, I kissed him.”

“You couldn't use a Silencing Spell?” asked Harry with a hint of sarcasm.

Malfoy snorted.

“Well, in hindsight that might have been the more obvious thing to do,” said Hermione, glaring at them. “But then I wouldn't have found out about the Horcruxes, would I?”

“Is someone finally going to tell me what Horcruxes are?” asked Ginny.

Hermione let out a sigh. “I suppose we may as well tell you. Horcruxes are used by dark wizards to achieve immortality. Voldemort ripped apart his soul by murdering people, and then he created Horcruxes like this diadem to hide the pieces. In order to kill him, we have to first destroy all of his Horcruxes.”

“That is so disgusting,” said Ginny, making a face. “I would never put a piece of my soul in a tacky diadem like that one.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Anyway, our pal Regulus here has all of the Horcruxes we need to kill Voldemort.” 

“Well, except for the one he put in his pet snake Nagini,” said Regulus. “You'll have to do some work yourselves.”

“I hate snakes,” said Ginny with a murderous glint in her eye. “I volunteer to destroy that Horcrux.”

“You're not going,” said Harry firmly.

“Why not?” whined Ginny.

“Because it's too dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself,” huffed Ginny. “I'm a much better fighter than Ron. I whip his ass all of the time. And I don't care if you are my boyfriend and the goddamn Chosen One, I can whip your ass, too.”

“That's true,” said Fred. “She totally can.”

“She's one scary bitch,” agreed George, nodding his head.

“Oh, just let her tag along,” said Ron. “We'll never hear the end of it otherwise.”

“We're coming, too,” said Fred.

“We'll bring the supplies,” added George.

“This is my fight,” began Harry.

“But you don't have to do it alone,” said Hermione, putting her hand on his shoulder. “We're here for you no matter what. Who knows? You might need Ginny to wrestle a snake, or Ron to play a game of Wizard Chess, or–”

“Hermione to have sex with You Know Who,” Ron joked.

“I was drunk when I said that!” snapped Hermione.

“On Veritaserum,” said Ginny, laughing.

“Whatever,” huffed Hermione. “The point is that we want to be there for you, Harry. So, we're all going.”

“Some of us all the way,” quipped Fred.

“And some of us are not only going, we might be coming as well,” added George, laughing.

“I hate you guys,” grumbled Hermione. “I was trying to be inspiring.”

“And you were,” said Harry, enveloping her in a big hug. “I love you guys. Except for you, Malfoy.”

“Do you lust me?” Malfoy cracked.

“No,” said Harry, looking at him thoughtfully, “but I might like you. I haven't quite decided yet.”

“I'll try not to disappoint you,” said Malfoy sarcastically.

“Just don't disappoint her,” said Harry, nodding at Hermione.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. If you hurt her, we'll kill you,” said Ron dismissively. “Now, isn't it time Hermione had sex with that painting, so we can get this show on the road?”

“I'll conjure the popcorn,” volunteered George.

“I'll take the pictures,” offered Fred.

“I'll be over here,” said Ron, taking the comfy chair with the best view.

Hermione glared at them. “I am not having sex with Regulus.”

“You're not?”

“No.”

Ron looked at Regulus for confirmation. 

Regulus shrugged. “Sorry, mate.”

“But why not?” asked Ron, trying not to sound too disappointed but failing.

“Why do you think?” replied Regulus, nodding his head at Malfoy.

They all looked at Malfoy and grumbled, “Stupid lurf.”


	54. Horcrux Hunt

“So, where are the Horcruxes?” asked Harry.

Regulus laughed. “Did you really think I was just going to hand them to you? You are going to have to do some of the work, you know.”

“Let me rephrase that,” said Harry, pointing his wand at the painting. “Where are the Horcruxes?”

“Are you sure he's the Chosen One?” Regulus asked Hermione. “I'd hate to have to put my money on Voldemort what with him double crossing me and all.”

Hermione sighed. “We have to hunt for them, Harry. Like an egg hunt. It will be fun,” she explained, forcing some enthusiasm.

“Fun,” repeated Harry, looking at her in disbelief.

“Well, not fun exactly, more like excruciatingly awful,” Hermione admitted. “But at least we don't have to traipse all over the world looking for Horcruxes. They're all right here. Somewhere.”

“I've hidden the Horcruxes in Easter eggs that you will have to hunt for. And did I mention there's costumes?” said Regulus brightly.

“No, you did not,” said Hermione darkly.

“Costumes?” repeated Harry warily.

“You can hardly go on a hunt without proper attire,” Regulus replied haughtily, flicking his wand and casting an apparel-changing spell on the entire group.

Harry glared down at his furry white feet but then perked up when he saw Ginny in her much sexier red satin Play Boy bunny-style costume.

“Why do I always get stuck with maroon?” Ron complained.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You're wearing a bunny suit, and it's the color you complain about?”

“Well, at least your bunny suit is white,” pouted Ron. “That's traditional. Whoever heard of a maroon bunny?”

“Just be happy you're not wearing pink,” said Harry, smirking and cocking his rabbit ears at Malfoy.

Ron looked over at Malfoy and burst out laughing.

Malfoy, clad head to toe in bubble gum pink fluffiness, sneered back at him. “Go ahead and laugh it up you, maroon. At least I'm man enough to pull it off.”

“That's a matter of opinion,” returned Ron, still snickering.

“Luckily, it's not your opinion that matters,” Malfoy retorted, giving Hermione a flirtatious sideways glance.

Hermione rolled her eyes and tugged on the bottom of her skimpy bunny costume which was Slytherin green and currently riding up her backside.

“Look at us! We're matchy-matchy,” said Fred and George, bumping hips and proudly showing off their identical blue bunny suits.

“I'm going to get a little tail,” said Fred, giving Hermione's bunny tail a squeeze.

“Now, we can really shag like rabbits,” said George, grinding into Hermione from behind.

Hermione responded with stinging hexes to both of them.

“Not much fun since she fell in lurf with Malfoy, is she?” grumbled George to Fred.

“Let's just get this over with,” Hermione grumbled.

“There's the enthusiasm I was looking for,” said Regulus. And with a flick of his wand, he transformed the parlor into an ominous, overgrown garden, filled with sinister looking flowering plants, creeping vines and tall shrubbery that cast creepy shadows. It was eerily beautiful and completely terrifying. 

“Hey!” Fred exclaimed. “I recognize this. It's from the WWW gardening catalog. Gardens Gone Wild.”

“You're the big order that Verity was telling us about,” said George, turning to look at Regulus.

“That was a lot of money,” said Fred, narrowing his eyes. “I hope you're good for it.”

“I'm dead,” replied Regulus. “If you want any of my money, you'll have to talk to him,” he said, pointing at Harry.

“I'm not paying for this,” huffed Harry.

“I suppose I could just send it all back,” said Regulus offhandedly, “but then I would have to call off the hunt.”

“We'll put it on your tab, Harry,” said George, clapping him on the back.

Harry scowled but didn't argue any further.

Regulus gave Harry a smug look and then flicked his wand. Colorful eggs dotted the garden landscape. “Let the Horcrux Hunt begin!”

“You didn't hide them very well,” observed Ron. “I can see at least a dozen from here.”

“The challenge isn't so much finding the eggs.” Regulus smirked. “It's surviving them once you find them.”

“They're booby trapped,” Hermione explained.

“Booby,” echoed all the boys, laughing childishly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed her Easter Basket. “Let's go.”

“Wait a minute,” said Fred, grabbing onto her cotton tail so she couldn't leave. “What do you say we make this hunt a bit more interesting?” 

Hermione swatted his hand away.“Why? Because hunting for deadly eggs that hold pieces of Voldemort's soul isn't interesting enough already?” she asked sarcastically.

“I think we could make it even more interesting,” said Fred, his eyes twinkling mischievously, “How about the person who finds the most Horcruxes wins a special prize.”

“Ooh, I like it,” said George, rubbing his hands together. “Nothing wrong with a little healthy competition. What does the winner get? Hermione?”

“No!” Hermione exclaimed angrily. “I am a strong, intelligent woman with an intrinsic sense of self-worth, not some prize for your stupid competition.” 

“Yeah,” agreed Ginny. “She's a strong, intelligent woman blah, blah, blah. What would I want with her for a prize.”

“You could have Harry,” offered George.

“Oh, okay,” agreed Ginny. “So, would we get to boss them around for a day or what?”

“Slave for a day!” sang the twins in unison. Then looking at each other and smirking, sang, “Sex slave for a day!”

“No,” Hermione repeated.

“Why not?” Fred whined. “If you win, you can have Malfoy if you want.”

“Or,” said George, putting his arm around his twin's shoulders. “You could have a two for one special.” He raised his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

“Forget it,” Hermione replied adamantly. “I won't do it. I am not participating in your stupid little competition.”

“Why not?” asked Fred. “Are you... chicken?”

“Bwok, bwok, bwok!” squawked George.

“That is not going to work on me,” Hermione retorted, crossing her arms across her chest. She'd learned her lesson on that the hard way.

“The question is...” Fred smirked. “Will it work on Malfoy?”

George began smirking as well. “What do you say, Malfoy? Are you man enough to compete with us, or are you as big of a coward as everyone says you are?”

Malfoy glared at the twins and then through gritted teeth replied, “We're in.”

“What!” exclaimed Hermione, looking at Malfoy in shock. “Are you insane? Did you forget what it was like losing to a Weasley?”

Malfoy turned a little green, thinking about what Ginny Weasley had made him do at breakfast, but he was resolved. “I'll win this time.”

“Doubtful,” mumbled Fred.

“He doesn't stand a chance,” agreed George, “But we probably shouldn't discourage him.”

“You got this, mate,” said Fred and George in unison, giving Malfoy the thumbs up.

“I refuse,” said Hermione stubbornly.

“You can't,” Malfoy retorted. “You're still under my command, and I say we're participating.”

“You can't make me do anything sexual,” Hermione reminded him.

Malfoy sighed. “All in favor of it being just a regular slave for a day as opposed to a sex slave for a day say Aye.”

“Aye,” chorused everyone, some less enthusiastically than others.

“It's fine by me,” said Ron. “I just want a regular slave anyway, or should I say slaves? I'm going for the two for one special. I'm going to make Fred and George pay for all the shit they've put me through over the years.”

“Point of clarification,” said Ginny, raising her hand. “If our prize agrees, can we still go the sex slave route?”

“All in favor,” said Fred.

Harry gulped first but said, “Aye,” along with everyone else. Hermione abstained from voting.

George nudged Fred. “Ha! We still have a chance. Malfoy's bound to piss her off at some point during this hunt and then she'll want to have revenge sex. She'll probably be begging to be our sex slave.”

“You do realize only one of us can win,” pointed out Fred.

“But we're twins. We share everything, right?”

“Um... yeah, right,” replied Fred, his lips turning a deep, lying shade of green.

Hermione turned on Malfoy. “Do you even want to have sex with me?” she asked exasperatedly, glaring at him. “I mean, do people in lurf actually have sex?”

“Yes!” Malfoy practically shouted at her. “People in lurf most definitely have sex. Lots of sex!”

“Then why the fuck are you agreeing to a competition where I will end up with either one or both of the Weasley twins?”

“Because he's an idiot,” replied the twins.

“Maybe he's a masochist,” Ron suggested.

“I vote idiot,” said Ginny.

“I agree with whatever Ginny thinks,” replied Harry.

“Maybe he's just a born loser,” drawled Regulus. “Like the rest of the Malfoys.”

Malfoy glared at all of them before turning to Hermione and taking her hands in his. “I'm really sorry. I know you don't understand, but I have to do this. Trust me. I'm going to win this.”

Hermione let out a sigh. “Fine, but I think Ron might be onto something about you being a masochist.”

“Maybe,” Malfoy replied, giving her a wink, “But we all know who the loser is,” he said, looking over at Fred, who was still sporting an 'L' on his forehead.

“We'll soon see who the real loser is,” replied Fred, smirking at Malfoy. “We all know exactly just what kind of seeker you are.”

“Yeah, the losing kind.” George laughed. 

“And we're beaters,” added Fred, “Which means we're going to beat all of you to the eggs.”

“We win the family egg hunt every year,” George boasted.

“Only because you cheat,” accused Ginny.

“Exactly,” the twins said in unison, smiling mischievously before turning and Apparating away.”

“Damn it!” exclaimed Ron. Grabbing a basket, he took off at a run toward the nearest egg but tripped and fell on his face. He quickly scrambled back up and immediately tripped again. “Ginny!” he yelled, glaring back at his sister, who was now giggling uncontrollably.

“Sorry, Ron, but I need myself a boy toy.” Ginny Apparated to the egg Ron was going for, and smirking at him, dropped it in her basket.

Smirking back at her, Ron held his wand up and shouted, “Accio eggs!” However, the smug expression on his face soon turned to horror as all of the brightly colored eggs in sight started flying directly toward his face. Screaming, Ron made a run for it but no matter which direction he turned the eggs followed. 

“I guess I better go help him,” said Harry in a resigned voice, trotting off after Ron.

Hermione started to follow, but Draco grabbed her hand and held her back. “Not yet,” he said.

“They've already started. What are you waiting for?” Hermione snapped.

Instead of answering, Draco held up his finger and waited until a scream could be heard off in the distance. “That,” he replied. “May as well let all of the stupid Gryffindors go first, so we know what we're dealing with.”

Hermione scowled at him. “I'm a Gryffindor.”

“But you're not stupid, are you?”

Hermione looked down at their entwined hands and let out a sigh. “Sometimes I wonder.”

Screaming like a banshee, Ginny came running out of a hedge maze followed by a herd of Blast-Ended Skrewts. Distracted by Ginny running past them with her cotton tail on fire, Harry and Ron ended up getting pelted with a dozen raw eggs. Covered in drippy egg goo, they ran off to rescue her. 

“Come on,” said Malfoy, dragging Hermione over to a nearby park bench. “We can watch everything from here.”

“We can't just sit here and do nothing!”

“We're not going to do nothing. We're going to enjoy the show. And maybe snog a little,” he added, casually putting his arm around her shoulders. 

“Are you trying to lose?” Hermione accused.

“Of course not,” Malfoy scoffed. “I have a plan. I just thought it might be fun to watch all of them suffer for a while. Merlin knows, we could both use a break.”

“I'm not disagreeing by any means, but I think you're underestimating the Weasley twins.”

Malfoy gave her a wicked grin. “I think the Weasley twins are underestimating me.”

“Just so you know, if the Weasley twins do win, I'm using my command and recruiting you for my assistant.”

“I'm not worried,” Malfoy replied dismissively. “Can we snog now?”

“Okay.” Hermione shrugged. Turning away from the awkward sight of Harry and Ron holding hands and skipping through the tulips, she met Malfoy's eager lips for a hungry kiss. Thank Merlin everyone else was occupied. She needed this. She never thought she'd feel this way, but she missed being alone with Malfoy. She regretted that they wasted so much time torturing each other with silly Weasley products. After all, there were so many more interesting ways to torture each other.

“I am so turned on right now,” Malfoy murmured in her ear as his lips methodically traveled down her body. “You are so sexy in your little bunny costume.” 

Hermione watched him kiss and lick his way down her cleavage. In his enthusiasm, she almost got poked in the eye by one of his pink bunny ears. “I think you're sexy, too,” she choked out before collapsing into a fit of giggles.

Malfoy stopped kissing her and glared.

“I'm sorry,” said Hermione, still laughing. “I can't say that with a straight face. You're so pink and fluffy.” 

When Hermione's laughter finally started to die down, Malfoy growled, “Are you done?” 

Taking in one last shuddering breath to gain her composure, Hermione nodded. “Carry on.” 

Malfoy slowly slid his fingers up Hermione's side, causing her breath to hitch. He then gently cupped her breast with his hand, and she completely lost it. 

“Now what!” snapped Malfoy.

“It's just that...” Hermione was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes. “It's like I'm getting felt up by the Easter Bunny! Okay. I'm sorry. I think I'm alright now.”

“Forget it,” said Malfoy sulkily. “I'm not in the mood anymore.” He scooted to the other sided of the bench and grumpily crossed his arms across his chest. 

Hermione looked over at him and couldn't help smiling. He was so cute in his fluffy, pink bunny suit, especially now that he was pouting. Even his ears were drooping. Scooting over next to him, she straightened one of his ears and whispered in her sexiest voice, “I really am sorry that I was such a bad bunny rabbit. Isn't there any way I can make it up to you?” She slid onto his lap and straddled him.

Malfoy's eyes dropped down to stare at her cleavage and his arms snaked around her to fondle her sexy little bunny tail. “Oh, fuck it. Just close your eyes and kiss me,” he ordered before crashing his lips to hers.

“Hey, what's going on here?” asked George, hopping over some time later.

“They've been going at it like rabbits ever since the hunt started,” replied Regulus from the picture behind them. “I'm done wanking if you want to interrupt them.”

“You mean, they haven't even been hunting for eggs?” George asked angrily.

“Unless they thought they were hidden in Hermione's skimpy costume or somewhere around Malfoy's crotch, I would have to say no,” Regulus quipped.

“Those bloody bastards,” George huffed. “Here I've been risking my life hunting for Horcruxes, and all I have to show for it is a lot of Doxy bites, some singed eyebrows, a cauliflower ear and a bunch of boring, white knickers.”

“Those are Hermione's knickers. I saved a pair for myself. They're collector items, you know.”

“Oh, well, I guess it was worth it then,” said George, fondling the knickers he had hanging from one of his long ears. Then he turned his attention back to Hermione and Malfoy. “Oi! If you two are finished, there's an egg hunt that happens to be going on.”

“We never get to finish,” grumbled Malfoy, grudgingly pulling away from Hermione. “Why do you have a vegetable coming out of your head?” he asked, gaping at the giant head of cauliflower that George had in place of an ear.

“Because unlike you, I was out risking my life hunting for Horcruxes,” George snapped.

“Did you find any?” Hermione asked eagerly.

“No,” George admitted. “On the bright side, I found a load of your knickers.”

Hermione glared at the knickers hanging from his bunny ear. “Where's Fred?” she asked suspiciously.

“Oh, he's a little tied up at the moment.” George grinned. “We got attacked by an army of pastel-colored gnomes. Fred got captured. He's currently tied up spread eagle in a patch of Violent Violets. Classic.”

“Shouldn't you go do something?” Hermione asked, sounding alarmed.

George shrugged. “I already got some pictures for the advert. Our Easter sales are going to skyrocket.”

“I mean, shouldn't you go help him?” Hermione persisted.

“He's fine,” said George, waving his hand dismissively.

Looking over George's shoulder, Hermione's eyes widened as she noticed Fred hobbling out from behind a tree with a couple gnomes still attached to his leg. Kicking them off, he headed angrily over toward George, holding a bright purple egg in his hand. “Hey George! I finally got it! Catch!” Fred shouted, launching the egg at his twin.

Reacting to slowly, George turned to get a face full of egg. He glared at his twin through the drippy egg goo.

Fred laughed. “I guess that was just a regular egg.”

George tried to reply with a few well chosen curse words, but it came out more like, “Bwok, bwok, bwok, bwok!”

Fred laughed even harder at that. “It looks like you finally get to experience the fun of our Eggs-cellent Exploding Eggs.”

“Bwok!”

“That's what you get for leaving me behind just so you could find your own Horcrux, you greedy bastard. I have to say, this whole laying eggs thing makes getting molested by those Easter gnomes totally worth it though. Did you find a Horcrux?”

“No. Fucking karma,” George grumbled, scratching at the feathers poking out of his bunny costume. “On the bright side, I got some excellent pictures for the spring catalog.”

“Let me see,” said Fred, holding his hand out for the pictures. “Ooh, very tasteful.”

“Oh, no!” wailed George, doubling over. “I think I'm having contractions. Scootch over, you two.” He hobbled over to the bench with his hand on his lower back and started breathing Lamaze style. “He hoo, he hoo, he hoo!”

“What's wrong with George?” asked Ginny, waltzing up to them. Harry was limping behind her, trying not to get hit with the big hoop skirt she was now wearing.”

Fred grinned. “ I 'accidentally' got him pregnant,” he said, using air quotes. “What's with the big ass skirt and your even bigger lips?”

“Damn blue bells,” Ginny pouted, making her big lips look even more enormous. “And all for an egg filled with angry bees. I think I might be allergic.”

Fred laughed. “I think you might be. And what's with him?” he asked, nodding at Harry, who was pretty beat up. His glasses were broken, his clothes were in tatters, and he was covered in soot.

Ginny giggled. “I lost the bottom half of my costume in the fire, and Harry kept getting distracted my my womanly charms. It's lucky I wandered into that patch of bluebells, or he might have died.”

“Did either of you find any Horcruxes? Hermione questioned.

Ginny shook her head. “We found a lot of awful things in our eggs but no Horcruxes.”

“Where's Ron?” asked Hermione.

Ginny shrugged.“Harry and I managed to get him out of the web, but the spiders won't leave him alone. We finally had to ditch him. I don't think he had time to find any eggs.” 

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” screamed Ron, running past them. “Get them off me! Get them off me!”

Fred pointed his wand in Ron's direction and suddenly one of the spiders grew to an enormous size.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” screamed Ron even louder.

“You are a horrible brother,” Hermione reprimanded.

“He really is,” agreed George, starting to grunt. “I think it's coming!”

Everyone turned their attention to George and immediately regretted it.

“My eyes!” screamed Malfoy, quickly scrambling off the bench and dumping Hermione on the floor. “This is even worse than the last time.”

“Merlin, George!” exclaimed Fred. “Why did you have to put that giant hole in your costume? No matter what you think, twins do not need to share everything. I did not need to see that.”

“No one did,” muttered Ginny, letting out a shudder.

“I had to,” George claimed. “I can't have Whiz Bangs going off in my bunny suit. They could damage the family jewels. I might want to have real children someday. Hermione, I'm getting ready to pop. Can you deliver my egg babies?”

“Ew, gross! No!” replied Hermione, unable to tear her eyes away from the impending birth. Now she knew why Malfoy was being such a big wuss about it. This could definitely scar a person for life.

“I thought you wanted to be a Healer,” said George crossly.

“Not anymore. Ask Malfoy. He has experience with this.”

“Fuck no!” Malfoy exclaimed. “I'm not doing that again. At least you had a vagina. What are his even going to come out of?”

They all looked at Fred.

Fred made a face. “It's kind of a pain in the ass. Well, more like a big pain in the ass. You'll live. Here, you can lay them in this,” he said, handing George Hermione's empty Easter Basket. “Hey! Why is your Easter Basket empty?”

“Oh, well...uh...” Hermione stammered.

“She was too busy...” began George before suddenly screwing up his face and grunting until an egg finally plopped out and fell in the basket. Sighing with relief, he continued, “She was too busy playing hide the carrot with Malfoy to look for any.”

“I was not. I couldn't find the zipper on his bunny costume,” she muttered.

Fred scowled at her. “Here we were out there busting our asses to find Horcruxes, poor George here is still busting his ass, and you and Malfoy were doing nothing?”

“We weren't doing nothing.” Malfoy smirked.

“Besides,” said Hermione, “It's not like you guys accomplished anything. None of you even found any Horcruxes.”

“At least we tried,” Harry scolded her. “Don't you even care about finding the Horcruxes anymore?”

“Of course, I care, Harry,” said Hermione, feeling properly chastised. “But Malfoy said he has a plan.”

“And you trust him?”

Hermione looked over at Malfoy, who was currently scowling at Harry, and smiled. “I do.”

“Alright, Malfoy. Here's your chance to be the big hero,” said Harry, looking at the Slytherin expectantly. “Don't fuck it up.”

“Well, I suppose I could put you all out of your misery, if you ask nicely,” Malfoy drawled, looking awfully pompous for a guy wearing a pink bunny suit.

“Forget it,” Ginny huffed. “I think you're full of shit. We looked everywhere and couldn't find a single Horcrux.”

“That's because you're a bunch of Gryffindors,” said Malfoy as though it were a bad word. “This job requires a Slytherin.” He smirked over at Regulus.

Regulus smirked back. “Okay, Malfoy. Let's see exactly what kind of Slytherin you are.”

“Kreacher!” Malfoy called out.

Regulus's smirk disappeared.

Kreacher popped into the room and bowed stiffly to Malfoy. “Yes, Master Draco?”

Malfoy took the time to double down on his smirk to Regulus before addressing the house elf. “Bring me the Horcruxes.” Looking over at Hermione, he added, “Please.”

“No!” shouted Regulus. “Kreacher! I forbid you.”

Kreacher looked over at Regulus and shrugged before popping out of the room. Everyone waited in silence until Kreacher finally returned holding a fussy, ribbon-strewn Easter basket containing three very naughty-looking Easter eggs – one decorated in black lace, one decorated in filmy pink chiffon and one decorated in a shiny Slytherin green satin.

“You actually used the knickers from my hidden drawer to hide Horcruxes!” exclaimed Hermione indignantly.

“I told you I couldn't use the boring, white ones,” said Regulus.

“She probably got the Slytherin green ones when she found out she was babysitting Malfoy,” muttered Fred sarcastically.

“Shut up, Fred,” Hermione snapped, refusing to look at Malfoy and his stupid smirk.

Kreacher handed the basket to Malfoy, and then scowled at Hermione while making a point of wiping his hands on his tea towel.

“I died for you. You could have at least let me keep the knickers, you ungrateful house-elf,” grumbled Regulus.

Kreacher gave him a look of disgust and popped out of the room.

“It looks like a living family member has more clout than a dead one,” Malfoy gloated to Regulus.

Regulus looked like he ate a sour lemon drop, but he only said, “Touché,” and flicked his wand, returning the parlor back to normal.

“What I miss?” asked Ron, dragging himself to the sofa and plopping down next to George. When George grunted in reply, Ron glance over in time to see an egg drop into the Easter basket that George was holding between his legs. Making a gagging noise, he said, “Never mind. I don't want to know.”

“Let this be a warning to you,” said George solemnly. “This it what happens when you let your brother knock you up. Always use protection, kids.”

“Malfoy found all of the Horcruxes,” said Harry.

“Bloody hell,” said Ron. “Guess he's getting laid tonight.”

“Not necessarily,” said Fred. “Remember Hermione said no to the whole sex slave thing.”

“I'm not choosing Granger as my prize,” said Malfoy.

“You're not!” gasped everyone including Hermione.

“No, I'm stealing Weasel's idea and going for the two for one special.” Malfoy smirked evilly at the twins.

Ron snorted. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm almost starting to like the guy.”

“Okay, now that we have the Horcruxes, how do we destroy them?” asked Harry, getting down to business.

“Well, I haven't read the whole book on Horcruxes yet,” said Hermione, “but basilisk venom seems to be very effective. Luckily, you have experience fighting basilisks, Harry, so we just have to find–”

“What? No way!” exclaimed Harry. “I'm not fighting a basilisk again. Are you out of your mind?”

“It's not like you have to do it alone. I'll help,” began Hermione.

“Forget it,” said Harry. “You completely froze up last time.”

“I was petrified,” Hermione retorted.

“Exactly,” replied Harry.

“Well, then what do you suggest we do?” snapped Hermione angrily.

“I know!” exclaimed Ron. “We could take your parents down to the Chamber of Secrets.”

“Why would we want to do that?” asked Hermione, sounding annoyed.

“Well, since your parents are dentists, which your Dad explained to me in horrifying detail,” said Ron, letting out a shudder, “they can just pull out all of the teeth of the basilisk Harry already killed.”

“That is the stupidest idea I have ever heard,” Hermione declared.

“What's wrong with it?” asked Ron, sounding offended.

“One, it involves my parents. And two, do you really think they left a dead monster lying around underneath the school?”

“Why not?” insisted Ron. “They left a living monster under the school.”

“If you want to go on some wild goose chase with my parents, then go for it, but leave me out of it.”

“But your dad doesn't like me,” Ron protested. “Maybe Ginny should go. She knows the way.”

“I can't go back there,” said Ginny. “That was traumatizing.”

“Oh, whatever,” replied Ron dismissively. “Knowing you, you probably thought Tom Riddle was hot and went down there to snog him.”

“I might have thought he was hot until he tried to murder me!” exclaimed Ginny angrily.

“As amusing as all of this is, you could just do an exorcism,” said Regulus. “Any Wizard priest could do it.”

“Ooh! How about the Wizard priest who did Bill and Fleur's wedding?” suggested Hermione.

“I don't think so,” said Fred, shaking his head.

“After the wedding, he pretty much told us if he ever had the misfortune to meet us again, it would be in hell,” added George.

“Well, we'll just have to find another one then,” said Hermione determinedly. “How do you get in contact with a Wizard priest?” 

“Through the Ministry,” replied Ron glumly.

“We can't contact the Ministry,” Harry said adamantly. “It's full of Voldemort's spies.”

“What other choice do we have?” asked Hermione.

“Lucky for you, we happen to know two certified Wizard priests intimately,” said Fred, exchanging a mischievous look with George.

“And even luckier for you, it just so happens we're available,” added George, waggling his eyebrows at Hermione.

“What are you two going on about?” asked Hermione.

“We're Wizard priests,” they said in unison.

“You've got to be kidding me,” said Hermione in disbelief.

“No, we're serious,” insisted Fred. “We got certified through this mail order Wizard priest school we found in an advertisement in the back of the Daily Prophet. Thought we could make a little extra money performing wedding ceremonies at the shop. We offered our marital services to Fleur, but she told us to sod off, so we gave her our joke services instead.” He smiled in remembrance.

“See what it says in the book about exorcisms, Fred,” said George.

“Oh, right,” agreed Fred. “Accio Wizard Priest Handbook.” A thin paperback book flew into his hands. “Hmmm. The warning says performing exorcisms could cause severe loss of hearing, dizziness or death.”

“You should do it, Fred. You're the oldest,” said George.

“Only by seven minutes,” protested Fred. “We should do it together. If it is going to cause death, we may as well go out the same way we came into this world.”

“Screaming and peeing?”

“No, I meant together. What would we do all alone? You'd be miserable without me.”

“I think I could make a go of it,” said George.

“We're doing it together,” said Fred firmly.

“Oh, alright,” agreed George. “If we should die, Ginny gets the joke shop. She's the only other one in the family with a sense of humor.”

“Hey,” said Ron.

“I'll set off Whiz Bangs every year on the anniversary of your deaths,” said Ginny solemnly. “What's the date today?”

“Not so fast,” said Fred, glaring at his sister. “We're not dead yet. And I wouldn't get your hopes up either. That mail order wizard priest school seemed pretty legit, so I doubt we're going anytime soon.”

“I don't know,” said Hermione hesitantly. “The whole mail order thing sounds a little sketchy to me. What happens if you do an exorcism, and you're not real priests?”

“They'll blow up,” said Regulus with a shrug. “No real loss.”

“Hmm,” said Fred, rethinking things. “Maybe we should test out our priestly powers first. I don't really fancy getting myself blown up.”

Me either,” agreed George. “Wouldn't want to disappoint the ladies by erasing our awesomeness from the universe.”

“So,” said Fred, rubbing his hands together and looking around the group. “Who wants to get hitched?”

“You want to perform a marriage ceremony?” said Hermione in shock. 

“How else do you expect us to test our powers?” asked George. “I may being laying a dozen egg babies at the moment, but it's not like we can baptize them.”

“And there are no funerals to perform... yet,” added Fred with a sly glance at Malfoy.

Malfoy scowled back at him.

“But how will we know it works?” asked Hermione.

“A record of it will show up at the Hall of Records,” George explained.

“But then the Ministry will know,” protested Harry.

“Don't worry about it,” said Fred. “We've got a guy.”

“You've got a guy?” echoed Hermione.

““Helps us with our licenses and patents and stuff. You know, the questionably legal stuff. He's very discreet,” said George.

“Not to mention cheap,” added Fred.

“You can't bribe a Ministry official! That's illegal!” exclaimed Hermione.

“Oh, stop being so stuffy,” said George.

“How else are we supposed to get the more dangerous products approved?” asked Fred, rolling his eyes.

“So, you think this will work then?” asked Harry.

“Sure,” George replied. “We'll just check with our guy to make sure that the marriage record shows up in the Hall of Records, and then we'll annul it. The record will disappear and no one will be the wiser. Easy Peasy.”

“So, who's getting hitched?” Fred asked again, rubbing his hands together.

All eyes fell on Hermione.

Sighing, Hermione reluctantly said, “Fine, I'll do it.”

“Who are you getting married to?” asked Malfoy jealously.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You, you idiot.”

“What! No! You can't make me marry you,” Malfoy protested.

Hermione smirked at him. “Want to bet?”


	55. Pathetic Proposals

Malfoy looked past Hermione's smirk to see everyone's wand pointed in his direction. 

Snapping his fingers, Malfoy said, “Weasel twits, I'm claiming my prize. Get your asses over here and protect me. And if I make a joke laugh at it.”

“Oh, I get it,” said George. “We're his new Crabbe and Goyle.”

“I call dibs on Goyle,” said Fred right away.

“Why Goyle?” asked George.

“Because, duh, he shagged Hermione three times.”

“There will be no shagging!” Draco snapped.

“How do you feel about heavy petting?” asked Fred.

“Don't touch her! Duel them,” Malfoy ordered, gesturing toward Harry, Ron and Ginny.

Not having to be told twice, Fred hit Harry with a Petrificus Totalus while George encased Ginny in a giant bubble.

“Sorry, bro,” said Fred, aiming his wand at Ron, who was still standing there stupidly. “Stupefy!”

Careening wildly, Ron knocked into Ginny, who went bouncing across the room.

“Who knew doing Malfoy's bidding would be so fun?” said George, admiring their handiwork. Harry and Ron were down for the count, and Ginny was silently cursing them from inside her bubble.

“Don't forget Granger!” Malfoy exclaimed.

“You told us not to touch her,” Fred pointed out.

“I meant in a sexual way,” Malfoy clarified.

“If we touch her, it's probably going to be sexual. We're guys.” George shrugged. “We have urges.”

“Yeah, no promises,” said Fred, winking at Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes and cast a Finite on her friends. Harry, Ron and Ginny got to their feet and scowled at the twins.

Fred and George shrugged. “Malfoy made us do it.”

“Yeah, but you didn't have to enjoy it so much,” growled Ginny, sending Stinging Hexes at Fred, George and Malfoy.

“You two are imbeciles,”grumbled Malfoy, rubbing his ass. “You're worse than Crabbe and Goyle for fuck's sake.”

“Does this mean you do want us to touch Hermione?” asked Fred

“No!”

“Are you through playing games, Malfoy?” asked Harry, looking tired. “Because we have work to do.”

“And you have a wedding to get ready for,” said Ron, scowling at Malfoy.

“You can't make me marry her,” Draco huffed, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Maybe they can't, but I can,” said Hermione, glaring at him. 

Malfoy laughed. “What are you going to do? Imperius me? You couldn't even use an Unforgivable on a frigging spider.”

“I thought it was an Acromantula!”

“Whatever. The point is you can't make me marry you. If you asked me nicely, maybe I'd consider it, but I prefer long engagements.”

“Should we laugh at that?” George whispered to Fred, looking confused.

Fred shrugged and then let out a huge guffaw. “Good one, Malfoy.”

Not wanting to be outdone, George laughed even more obnoxiously.

“This isn't a joke, Malfoy,” said Hermione, scowling. “There's a war going on. You are marrying me, and you are marrying today!” 

“No,” said Malfoy stubbornly.

“I'm not asking, Malfoy. I'm commanding. I'm using my command that I won in our bet.”

“You're going to command me to marry you?” Malfoy sneered. “That's a little desperate, don't you think?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Hermione growled. He was really starting to piss her off. Was having to marry her that awful?

“You can't be serious,” Malfoy scoffed.

“I am serious. Deadly serious,” she replied, raising her wand.

“But I don't want to marry you,” Malfoy whined.

“Why not?” Hermione huffed. “Because you're a Pureblood, and I'm a... a Mudblood!” she spat.

“No! Because we are both frigging teenagers! We've been on two dates if you count that horrid wedding, and both times it's been with all these losers,” Malfoy snapped, gesturing at the doofuses around them.

“That's a little harsh,” said Fred.

“Yeah,” agreed George. “Like you would have gotten as far as you did on those dates without us there.”

Ignoring the twins, Malfoy continued, “And if that wasn't enough reason to not marry you, that was the most pathetic proposal I've ever heard!”

“Oh, I'm sorry. What did you expect, Malfoy? That I would express my undying lurf for you?” asked Hermione sarcastically. “Perhaps if I called you a darling dear or complimented your pretty, pink hair, you would have been more accepting of my proposal!”

“Perhaps, if you weren't such a bitch about the whole thing, I might have!” he yelled back at her.

“Look, Malfoy,” said Hermione, trying to control her temper. “I don't want to marry you anymore than you want to marry me. But if we want to destroy these Horcruxes and get rid of Voldemort for good, it just happens to be something we both have to do. Unless you don't care about saving the frigging world, you selfish prat!”

“But why do I have to do it?” whined Malfoy. “Why don't you marry Weasel?”

“I can't marry Hermione!” exclaimed Ron with a look of horror on his face. “Mum would kill me. Besides, you're the one in lurf with her. I just lurf sausages.”

“I'll marry her,” offered Fred. “George can probably handle the ceremony by himself, and I think it would be fun. Hey, Ron, can I borrow your owl for the honeymoon?”

“No!” exclaimed Malfoy and Ron at the same time.

“But then who's going to marry our Hermione?” asked Fred, grinning at Malfoy.

“Well, I suppose I–“ began George.

“Fine! I'll do it!” snapped Malfoy, glaring at Fred. “I'll marry her... to save the world.

“Don't do me any favors,” Hermione snapped.

“You forgot about the honeymoon part, didn't you?” said Fred, smirking at Malfoy.

“Just so you know,” said Ron, looking at Malfoy seriously. “I'm not letting you borrow my owl either.”

“There will be no need for an owl or a honeymoon,” snapped Hermione, still angry at Malfoy. “We're getting married and then immediately annulling it because we have a job to do, and you are an asshole!”

“Well,” said George thoughtfully, “We'll have to wait for confirmation from our contact before we can actually annul it, so at the very least you should have time for a quickie.”

“I'll probably have a headache,” Hermione muttered.

Malfoy scowled in reply. 

“Now that we have that settled, we'll have to throw Malfoy a bachelor party,” said Ron eagerly.

“Is that really necessary?” Hermione asked rhetorically. “You don't even like him.” 

“I like bachelor parties.”

“We don't have time for that kind of nonsense. We should do the wedding now, so we can destroy the Horcruxes as soon as possible. And besides, Malfoy can't leave Grimmauld Place without me. Fiancé or not, I'm still his babysitter.”

Ron snorted. “I think you can take one night off from your 'babysitting' duties,” he said, using air quotes.

Hermione glared. “We don't have any time to waste. We have to do it as soon as possible, and I'm not marrying him while he's still drunk off his ass.”

“Why not?” Ron asked “It would sure make things easier with the whole forcing him to marry you.”

“Because this is my first marriage. And while I'm not expecting it to be the romantic wedding that I've dreamed of since I was a little girl, especially seeing as he's being such a prat about it,” Hermione said, glaring over at Malfoy, “I will not have this momentous occasion marred by the groom puking on me.”

“So, we'll give him a Sobriety Potion,” said Ron dismissively. “It's not a real wedding without a bachelor party.”

“He's right, Hermione. It's tradition,” said Fred definitively.

“Yeah,” agreed George. “This isn't the time to be half assing things.”

“Well,” hedged Hermione, not liking being accused of doing anything half ass, “I suppose you could do it here, so long as I can keep an eye on him. I am still his babysitter, you know.”

“Here! We can't do it here!” exclaimed Ron.

“Definitely not,” agreed Fred. “That would be–”

“Lame!” finished George.

“Why? There's some Firewhisky in the kitchen,” said Hermione, not seeing the problem with the idea.

“You obviously know nothing about bachelor parties,” Ron grumbled.

“What did you guys have in mind?” asked Hermione, hands on her hips.

“Strippers,” they all said in unison, although Harry kind of mumbled it.

“I'm not opposed to that,” said Malfoy, perking up a bit.

“You can't bring strippers here,” said Hermione. “There's a Fidelus Charm in place.”

“Exactly. That's why we're going out,” said Ron.

“Unless you're volunteering for the job,” said Fred, raising his eyebrows up and down. 

“You could finish your little routine you started at the wedding,” added George, grinning at her lasciviously.

“I'm not opposed to that either,” said Malfoy suddenly being agreeable.

“Absolutely not,” Hermione declared, not happy to be reminded of the striptease she had performed in front of a wizard priest.

“Then we're going out,” said Ron smugly.

“You are not taking Malfoy anywhere. Have you forgotten that there are Death Eaters out there looking for him? He could get killed.”

“I'm okay with that.” Ron shrugged.

“Me, too,” said Fred with his twin nodding in agreement.

Harry at least looked a little conflicted about it.

“While I'm certainly not opposed to Malfoy dying by any means,” said Ginny, smirking over at Malfoy. “We could just take him to a Muggle club. No one would recognize him there.”

“Excellent idea, sis,” said Ron. “However, you are not invited. Bachelor parties are for blokes only.”

“If Harry's going, I'm going.” Ginny insisted. “Hermione may not know what goes on at a bachelor party, but I do. We can have Hermione's hen party at the same time. It will be fun. Besides, do you really think Hermione is going to let Malfoy go off on a night of drunken debauchery without her? She is his 'babysitter' after all,” she said, using air quotes.

“Hmm, drunk Hermione is fun,” said Fred.

“And we might even save money on the stripper,” added George.

“Okay,” agreed Ron. He was totally broke anyway.

“I'll go along with whatever Ginny thinks,” said Harry.

“Wuss,” muttered Regulus from the wall, earning himself a glare from Harry.

“Fine,” Hermione relented. “I see we're not going to get anything done unless I agree to this incredibly stupid idea. But I will go as the chaperon. I will not be drinking, and I will certainly not be stripping. After you get all of that out of your system, we will come back here, you will all take a Sobriety Potion, and Malfoy and I will get married.”

“Lame,” Fred whispered to George but at Hermione's glare said a little louder, “Sounds like a plan.”

“But what about your hen party?” asked Ginny in disappointment. “I was going to get strippers, too.”

“Oh,” said Hermione in surprise.

“Granger's not interested in that nonsense,” Malfoy interrupted, scowling at Ginny. “She's too busy saving the world.”

Hermione scowled at Malfoy. “I can multitask, you know.”

“But you said you weren't drinking!” Malfoy exclaimed.

“I'm pretty sure I can enjoy strippers even better sober,” Hermione retorted.

Fred snorted, earning himself a glare from Malfoy.

“I think we're only supposed to laugh at Malfoy's jokes,” George whispered loudly.

“Well, we should probably go start getting ready for tonight,” said Ginny. “I forgot we were still wearing these stupid bunny costumes.”

“How could you forget?” asked Ron incredulously.

“Because you guys always look like doofuses, and I'm not attracted to Hermione,” said Ginny as though it were obvious.

All eyes turned on Hermione, and she self consciously crossed her arms across her chest. “Maybe we should change,” Hermione admitted. “But we still have loads of time before the clubs open. I think we should start coming up with a plan to get rid of Voldemort.”

“I think I have a plan actually,” said Harry out of the blue.

“When did you have time to come up with a plan?” asked Hermione in surprise. If anyone was going to come up with a plan she would have thought it would be her.

“Well, Ron and I started coming up with ideas when you were in the closet with Fred... and then , well, Malfoy apparently.”

Hermione felt herself blushing.

“Yeah, we thought we should come up with a better plan than you shagging Voldemort,” added Ron.

Regulus snorted behind them.

“We didn't really come up with anything good at the time,” admitted Harry, “but then we found out about Malfoy and what you were doing and then it just kind of clicked.”

“What is it, Harry? I'm ready to help,” said Hermione.

“Good. Because I'm really going to need your expertise, Hermione.”

“I'll do anything,” Hermione promised.

“I need you to babysit.”

“What!” exclaimed Hermione angrily. “You want me to fucking babysit!”

“Now, Hermione, it's not what you think,” began Harry, trying to calm her down.

“That's exactly what Remus said, and look at what I got fucking stuck with!” Hermione yelled, gesturing wildly at Malfoy.

“Is babysitting code for sex?” asked Ron. “Because I thought we agreed to not let Hermione have sex with Voldemort.”

Regulus laughed again.

“Would you stop bringing that up?” Hermione snapped.

“It was your idea,” grumbled Ron.

Running his hand through his hair in frustration, Harry said, “I'm not talking about sex or the type of 'babysitting' Hermione's been up to. I'm talking about actual babysitting. We all know that I'm the one who has to face Voldemort in the end, but–”

“We're not letting you face him alone, Harry,” interrupted Hermione.

“I have to face him alone. The prophecy–”

“The prophecy,” scoffed Hermione. “Trelawney also had a prophecy about having sex with Ron.”

“And that came true,” Harry pointed out.

“Yeah, it totally did,” said Ron, unable to stop the grin on his face.

Ginny made a gagging noise.

“It only came true because he's a stupid, hormone-driven teenage boy. And an idiot. Really, Ron,” said Hermione, turning on her lecturing voice, “having sex with a teacher is extremely inappropriate, not to mention–”

“Please,” said Ron, cutting her off. “We all know you would have screwed Snape if you could have.”

“You think I couldn't have!” exclaimed Hermione shrilly.

“Can we get back to the plan?” asked Harry, his hair sticking out in different directions from pulling on it so much. “I need you–”

“Exactly my point, Harry. You need me, I mean us,” said Hermione at Ron's glare. “We've been there for every one of your adventures. Without us you would have died.”

“I do need you... to babysit!” Harry exploded. “And if you would let me get in two words, I could tell you who.”

“Well, you don't have to shout,” mumbled Hermione, feeling properly chastised. “Who do you want me to babysit?”

“Death Eaters.”

“You want me to babysit... Death Eaters?” asked Hermione incredulously.

“Well, not just you, all of you. Watching you and Malfoy acting so childish with your ridiculous war with one another got me thinking. It was just all so silly. I couldn't help wishing that the war I had to fight could be like that. And then I thought, why couldn't it? We could give the Death Eaters a De-aging Potion and then you guys could babysit them while I duel Voldemort. I'll be able to concentrate on what I need to do much better if I know you're not in danger. What do you think?”

“Why Harry that's... that's absolutely brilliant!” exclaimed Hermione, her eyes lighting up. “But how do we get them to take the potion?”

“I know!” exclaimed Ron. “We could put it in some Chinese take out because who doesn't like Chinese food? Then we'll leave it on the doorstep, ring the doorbell and run.”

“You really are an idiot, Weasel,” Draco sneered. “That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard. Don't you think they would be a little bit suspicious of eating food that randomly showed up?”

“Well, it worked with Crabbe and Goyle,” grumbled Ron.

“That's it!” exclaimed Hermione excitingly.

“Are you kidding me? Draco said, giving Hermione a funny look. “You think that stupid doorbell idea will work?”

“No, that was stupid, but Goyle's not. He's perfect,” Hermione replied with a big smile.

Malfoy scowled. “I beg to differ.”

“Think about,” said Hermione, getting excited about the idea. “We need someone who can get in. You can't do it, Malfoy. They'll kill you. And none of us can do it either. A disguise would be too risky. But no one would question Goyle turning up.”

“Is Goyle a Death Eater?” asked Harry.

“No, but his Father is,” said Hermione.

“How do you know he's not a Death Eater?” asked Ron.

“He told me.”

“What if he was lying?”

“He wasn't.”

“But how do you–”

“I just know, Ronald Weasley!” snapped Hermione.

Regulus snorted.

“Do you trust Goyle?” asked Harry.

Hermione nodded. “I do.”

“And do you think he would do it?”

Hermione's eyes sparkled. “I think I could talk him into it.”

“No!” exclaimed Malfoy angrily. “There will be no “talking” him into anything. I won't let you do it.”

“I can do what I want!”

“And I'm telling you that you can't!” shouted Malfoy. “I don't want you messing around with frigging Goyle!”

“I can, and I will! You have no right to tell me what to do. Or who to do for that matter. We're not married yet, Malfoy!” she yelled, stomping out of the room.

Malfoy looked after her in shock.

“Guess you shouldn't have asked for that long engagement,” Ron joked.

“Or pissed her off so much.” Fred snorted.

George clapped Malfoy on the back. “Don't listen to them, mate. There's not a chance in hell she would have let you tell her what to do even if you were married.”


	56. Vicious Veritaserum

“You can't wear that,” said Ginny, eyeing Hermione's outfit with a look of distaste. 

“What's wrong with it?” asked Hermione, taking offense. This was one of her favorite black dresses. It was very tasteful and perfect for any occasion.

Ginny made a face. “You look like you're going to a funeral.”

“Perhaps, I am,” Hermione quipped. Malfoy was still very much on her shit list.

“You won't even get into a club wearing that horrible thing. It's not nearly sexy enough.” Ginny went over to her trunk and rummaged around. She pulled out a slinky dress with spaghetti straps and threw it at Hermione. “Here, you can borrow this.”

Hermione eyed it skeptically. “It's red.”

“Malfoy will love it.”

“Who says I care what Malfoy thinks?” Hermione huffed.

“Don't you?” Ginny smirked.

Hermione glared at her and angrily pulled the black dress over her head and tossed it in the corner along with her bra. She put on the red dress and looked at herself in the mirror critically. “I don't think it fits. It looks too tight. And way too short.”

“That's how it's supposed to be,” Ginny insisted. “It's perfect. What do you think, Regulus?”

“It's hot. Although I think Malfoy is more likely to lurf it or perhaps lust it.”

Hermione turned and glared at Regulus.”Have you been watching me change my clothes this whole time?”

“Yeah, that's what I always do,” he replied with a shrug, popping out of his frame before she could hex him.

“Let him have his fun,” said Ginny dismissively. “He's just a picture. What's the harm?”

“He is not 'just' a picture,” replied Hermione darkly.

“Oh, I forgot you two had a relationship,” said Ginny sarcastically. “Come on, let's finish getting you ready. They're probably all waiting on us. Although Malfoy might still be primping.”

After Ginny finished with her makeup, Hermione took another look in the mirror and couldn't help staring at her reflection with a satisfied smirk. Ginny had insisted she wear her hair down because Malfoy liked it that way. Her wild curls tumbling over her bare shoulders looked even wilder than normal set against the backdrop of the rather risqué red dress. Matching red lipstick completed the look. 

However, it was what was underneath the dress that was perhaps the most naughty thing of all. She was wearing a very sexy pair of red satin knickers that until very recently had been Slytherin green and hiding a Horcrux. And while it really shouldn't, the knowledge that Voldemort had been inside this particular pair of knickers gave her a bit of a thrill. Suddenly feeling very sexy and confident, a crazy idea popped into her head. Before she lost her nerve and could change her mind about it, she went over to her desk and hastily scribbled down a quick message. Grabbing the parchment, she said, “I'll meet you downstairs, there's something I need to do first.”

When she finally came down the stairs fifteen minutes later, she felt a bit self conscious as everyone was staring at her, particularly Malfoy. And she couldn't help gaping back at him. Malfoy was wearing an expensive-looking, dark suit that was obviously tailored to fit his body and show it off to its best advantage which it definitely did. She had never seen him look sexier. His hair was slicked back to perfection and no longer pink! He was also missing the two black eyes he had earned earlier. He looked totally hot, and Hermione couldn't help swallowing the lump that had just formed in her throat.

“Like our handiwork?” asked Fred.

“Malfoy made us help him get ready,” George explained.

“Sorry we had to get rid of the pink hair. We know how much you liked it, Hermione,” added Fred.

George sighed. “We liked it, too, but us slaves don't get much say in the matter.”

“So, where are we going, Hermione?” asked Ron eagerly. “Is it a cool Muggle club?”

“Uh,” said Hermione hesitantly. “It's not a club exactly, more like a bar.”

“But I wanted to go to a club,” whined Ron.

“Well, I don't know any clubs,” Hermione huffed. “I've never been to one.”

“We'll check out the bar and then maybe look for a club after,” suggested Ginny diplomatically.

“Okay,” agreed Ron.

“Remember, we're going to be around Muggles, so absolutely no magic,” Hermione lectured, giving them a stern look, particularly Fred and George. “The bar I have in mind is near King's Cross. I'll meet you there.” She quickly Apparated away before anyone could ask to tag along with her. Fred and George could bring the others. She knew Malfoy would probably make a fuss about it, but she wanted a bit of a head start.

She popped into a secluded area at King's Cross and immediately saw him. “Hello, Goyle.”

“Granger,” greeted Goyle, taking the time to let his eyes roam over her body.

“How have you been?” she asked, sounding nervous for some reason.

“Much better now,” said Goyle, closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to hers in a searing kiss. 

Forgetting completely about the reason she was there, she kissed him back enthusiastically until she heard the sound of throats clearing behind her.

Rather reluctantly, she pulled out of the kiss and looked at Goyle apologetically. “Oh, did I forget to mention on the invitation that I was bringing my friends... and Malfoy?” She let out a nervous laugh.

“You did,” replied Goyle dryly, looking particularly unhappy to see Malfoy, who was openly scowling at Hermione.

“She didn't tell us either,” quipped Fred.

Unable to bear the awkward silence that followed, Hermione finally looked at Goyle and said, “Fine, I didn't tell you on purpose. I'm really sorry. It's just that this is important, and I didn't think you would come if you knew about... 'that', she said, gesturing wildly at Malfoy. “Especially after that horrible dinner party.”

“It wasn't all horrible. I did enjoy the mashed potatoes,” Goyle said, smirking at her.

Not liking Goyle being responsible for the pretty blush that was now creeping up Hermione's cheeks, Malfoy blurted, “I enjoyed them as well.”

Not flinching at all, Goyle turned his smirk on Malfoy and said, “Liked my leftovers, did you?”

Malfoy scowled in reply.

“I have no idea what they're talking about,” Fred whispered loudly to George, “but my trousers are telling me it's something erotic.”

George nodded in agreement.

Realizing this was going to be a very long night, Hermione let out a sigh and got on with the introductions. “Goyle, this is Ron's sister Ginny and his brothers Fred and George. You know Harry and Ron, of course. Everyone, this is Goyle.”

“We've heard a lot about you,” said Fred, winking.

“Although apparently not everything,” added George, raising his eyebrows up and down.

“Aren't you going to introduce me, Granger?” Malfoy drawled, looking very much like he was up to no good.

“He already knows you, dip shit,” she snapped.

“Yes, but does he know I'm you're fiancé?” asked Draco, smirking.

Hermione closed her eyes and counted to ten, willing herself not to kill Malfoy. When she finally opened her eyes, they were met with Goyle's intense gaze. Again, she laughed nervously.

“Seems there were quite a few things you left off that invitation,” Goyle remarked coolly.

“Yes, well, it's kind of a long story, and not a big deal at all,” Hermione said, glaring at Malfoy. “But we can discuss it when we get to the bar. We should really get going.” 

“You invited him to my bachelor party!” exclaimed Malfoy angrily.

“Well, when else are we suppose to talk to him about you know what?” Hermione huffed.

“I don't care! Never?”

“He's coming,” Hermione said with finality in her voice.

“He already got to do that,” Malfoy snapped. “Three times!”

Fred and George each gave their obligatory laugh which Malfoy did not seem to appreciate.

Goyle didn't say anything, but his eyes were twinkling rather obnoxiously.

Malfoy–” began Hermione.

“Forget it. He's not coming to my bachelor party,” said Malfoy adamantly. “If anyone is going to come, it is going to be me. Un-invite him!”

“Fine!” Hermione snapped. “Goyle, Malfoy does not wish you to attend his stupid bachelor party. Would you like to come to my hen party instead?”

“I would love to come... three times as much as Malfoy apparently,” replied Goyle, unable to resist smirking at Malfoy.

“That's it!” yelled Malfoy, lunging for Goyle. 

Malfoy managed to make contact before Hermione was able to pull out her wand, but it was like running into a brick wall, and Goyle didn't even budge. Malfoy was already falling down from getting the wind knocked out of him when her Petrificus Totalus finally reached him. 

Hermione scowled down at him. “I swear, Malfoy. You can't behave yourself for two minutes. Look what you made me do. You made me use magic when I said we weren't going to do that. You made me break my own rules. You're lucky a Muggle didn't see me. And you're lucky I didn't go with the spell I wanted to go with because then you wouldn't have been coming at all, let alone three times,” she hissed.

Malfoy scowled up at her because luckily that was the expression he had already been wearing when she froze him. His only consolation in being in the position he was now in was that he had a spectacular view down the front of her dress.

“Now,” continued Hermione, “I'm going to take this spell off of you, but you'd better behave yourself. Whether you like it or not, Goyle is coming. I mean, going. Attending? You know what I mean! We need to talk to him tonight and ask him to do you know what. After that, you can have your stupid bachelor party and do whatever it is you do at a stupid bachelor party. I should warn you though, Muggle strippers have diseases that can make your dick fall off. Finite!”

Malfoy got up, looking slightly horrified.

“Let's go,” said Hermione, walking in the direction of the bar.

When they finally got to their destination, Ginny started laughing. “You brought us to a Karaoke bar?”

“What's Karaoke?” asked Malfoy, looking at the bar distastefully.

“I take back what I was thinking,” said Ginny, smirking. “This is going to be totally worth it.”

Hermione looked a little embarrassed. “It's the only bar I've ever been to. My mum likes to sing inappropriate songs to my dad for his birthday.”

“It's a bit of a dive, isn't it?” commented Ron, looking a little disappointed.

“It has cheap drinks and entertainment and since I'm paying, beggars can't be choosers,” Hermione retorted.

“Sounds good to me,” said Ron quickly, opening the door.

Their ears were greeted with a very bad rendition of Celine Dion's _All By Myself_.

“What is that?” asked Malfoy, cringing away from the noise.

“Karaoke,” Hermione replied, pushing him through the door.

They found an empty table, and after a minor scuffle over who was sitting where, they finally sat down. Hermione, of course, found herself between the only two Slytherins at the table. The waitress came by and took their drink orders.

After everyone else ordered some kind of cocktail, Hermione said, “I'll just have tea.”

“We only have Long Island iced tea,” answered the waitress.

“That's fine,” said Hermione, having no idea what a Long Island iced tea was. “I don't mind it cold.”

“Are you driving?” asked the waitress.

“No,” Hermione replied, looking at her quizzically.

“Okay then,” said the waitress, smiling. “I'll be right back with your drinks. If you want to sing anything, go talk to Johnny over there, and he'll set you up.”

“I wonder why she asked if I was driving?” said Hermione.

“Oh, you know Muggles,” answered Malfoy quickly. “Always saying crazy shit.”

Fred and George snorted, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

“I know a few Wizards who are always saying crazy shit as well,” retorted Hermione.

“Speaking of that, I'll go check on those drinks,” said Fred, getting up from the table. 

“I'll help,” said George quickly, jumping up from his chair and following his brother.

Several minutes later they returned with the drinks. Fred handed Hermione her drink first and said, “I told them to put the drinks on your tab and keep them coming.”

“Thanks, Fred,” said Hermione, not sounding all that grateful. This stupid bachelor party was going to cost her a fortune. Her dad was not going to be happy when he got the credit card bill. 

“How's your tea, Hermione?” asked George, trying not to laugh.

Hermione took a sip through the straw. “Mmmm, tasty,” she said, smacking her lips.

Fred handed out the rest of the drinks and said, “I'd like to propose a toast. To Goyle. For being the only one here lucky enough to shag our dear Hermione and not only once but three times.”

“Here, here,” said George, raising his glass.

“Fred!” exclaimed Hermione in embarrassment.

“I'm not drinking to that,” grumbled Malfoy.

“I bet Goyle will drink to that.” Fred smirked.

Goyle looked at the twins and then back down at his drink. “This has Veritaserum in it, doesn't it?”

“Damn, Hermione.” George whistled. “You're right. He's not as dumb as we thought.”

Goyle rolled his eyes but then shrugged. “I have nothing to hide.” He smirked over at Malfoy before tilting back the glass and drinking it down in one gulp. 

“You put Veritaserum in his drink!” hissed Hermione, discreetly casting a Muffliato Charm.

“Hey, you said no magic,” said Ron. “That's the second time you've done it now.”

“We can't have people listening in on us! Who knows what crazy shit he's going to say on Veritaserum?” said Hermione, starting to panic.

“Please,” said Ron. “Everyone in this place is completely wasted. You don't go to a Karaoke bar sober. They're probably all saying crazier shit than we are.” As if to prove his point, some creepy, drunk guy started singing _Pour Some Sugar on Me_.

“Let's test that theory out,” said Fred, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Hey, Goyle. What crazy shit did you get up to with our Hermione?” 

Fuck! Hermione took a huge sip of her drink and tried not to hyperventilate.

Not seeming too concerned about the question, Goyle casually leaned back in his chair and said, “We got drunk together at The Three Broomsticks and started fucking on the Floo ride back to her house. We tumbled out of the fireplace, and I brought her to the best orgasm she ever had right there on the floor in the middle of her parent's living room.”

“And who's name did she call out?” Malfoy sneered viciously, already knowing the answer.

“Yours,” said Goyle, glaring at him. “But there wasn't much time for awkwardness because she came so hard and screamed it so loud she woke her parents up.”

“Oh, my God,” said Ginny, her hand flying to her mouth. “What happened next?”

Hermione hailed the waitress for another drink.

“After the introductions, Mr. Granger lectured us while he ate a snack at the kitchen table. When her parents finally went back to bed, Hermione cast a Repelling Charm on the door and a Silencio on herself, and I fucked her bent over the kitchen table where her father had just finished his snack. Then I had my own snack.” Goyle smiled in remembrance.

“Holy shit,” said Ron, his mouth dropping open. “Where her father eats? You are a cold mother fucker.”

Goyle smirked. “It was Granger's idea.”

Hermione glared at him. “You did not need to volunteer that.” She missed the old Goyle. He was way too chatty on Veritaserum. She definitely preferred the strong, silent type.

“So, that was the three times,” said Fred, letting out a long whistle. “Impressive.”

“That was two times,” Goyle corrected. “I didn't count my little snack. Or when I finger fucked her under the table during her dad's lecture. Or–”

“Shut up, Goyle,” snapped Hermione.

“What was the third time?” asked George, leaning in closer and earning a glare from Hermione.

“We went outside and talked until sunrise. The first two times were hard, fast fucks but the third time we made love under her favorite tree as the sun came up. We were sobered up by then and that time, she definitely called out my name.”

“God, Hermione,” said Ginny, somewhat in awe. “What the fuck are you doing with Malfoy? Goyle is amazing.”

Malfoy leaned across Hermione and scowled at Goyle. “Are you just fucking with Granger to mess with me?”

“No.. but it does makes it that much sweeter,” said Goyle, smiling.

Malfoy started to lunge for Goyle again, but Hermione pushed him back.

Breathing heavily and still staring Goyle hard in the eye, Malfoy asked, “Do you love her?”

Without skipping a beat, Goyle replied, “I've been in love with her for the past two years now.”

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. The only one probably more affected by this very surprising piece of information than her was Malfoy. Without saying another word, he noisily pushed his chair back and started heading for the door. Not knowing what to do or say, Hermione took a long sip of her tea. She was slurping up the last of it through her straw when Malfoy marched angrily back to the table and grabbed the drink away from her.

“This has five different kinds of alcohol in it,” he snapped before angrily throwing her glass across the room and letting it smash against the wall. He then stormed out of the bar.

“We'll go after him,” said Fred.

“We're his new Crabbe and Goyle,” George explained to Goyle.

“I'm Goyle,” said Fred proudly.

“You can take over the interrogation from here, Harry,” said George.

“But don't ask any good stuff without us here,” added Fred. 

“Yeah,” agreed George. “I still want to hear about the mashed potatoes. Just stick to that boring stuff you wanted to ask him when you first came up with the idea of slipping him Veritaserum.”

After Fred and George left to go look for Malfoy, Hermione turned on Harry. “This was your idea? I can't believe you did this without talking to me first,” Hermione huffed.

“We had to,” said Harry. “I know you trust Goyle, but we have to know for sure before we get him involved in any of our plans. There's too much to lose right now.”

“You should have told me,” Hermione insisted angrily.

“Like you told us you were inviting Goyle tonight? No offense, Hermione, “ said Harry, “but your judgment when it comes to Slytherins isn't exactly the best.”

Glaring at Harry and blatantly refusing to look at Goyle, Hermione angrily pushed her chair back from the table and then fled to the ladies' room to the tune of _It's Raining Men_. She would have left the bar entirely, but she didn't want to risk running into Malfoy.

“It looks like I have to go take care of some maid of honor duties,” said Ginny, excusing herself. She found Hermione crying in the bathroom.

“Oh, Ginny!” cried Hermione, throwing her arms around her.

“There, there,” said Ginny, patting her back. “I don't even know why you're crying. You have two guys fighting over you. I had my hand on Harry's thigh the whole time Goyle was spouting off all of that porn, and I don't even think he noticed. But I suppose it's not a real hen party unless someone ends up crying in the bathroom. There should also be someone who gets wasted and does something embarrassing, someone who ends up hooking up with some random guy or better yet their ex and someone who ends up puking their guts out. Please don't puke on me.”

“I'm sorry,” said Hermione, pushing away from her and swiping at her eyes. “I don't know why I'm being so... so emotional!” She started crying again.

“I'm guessing it's because you have two guys in love with you, and you're confused. And it's probably not helping that you had all of that alcohol. Really, Hermione, after the first sip, how could you not tell that a Long Island iced tea is really an alcoholic drink? It doesn't even have any tea in it.”

“It doesn't?” said Hermione in shock.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Oh, Ginny! What am I going to do?” cried Hermione.

“The question is, which one do you want to do?” she asked, raising her eyebrows up and down. You can have either one of them. Hell, you could probably have every guy at our table, except Harry, of course. The world is your oyster. You are one lucky bitch.”

“You're right, Ginny,” said Hermione, her eyes lighting up. “And who says I even need to make a decision right now? I might be getting married in a few hours, but it doesn't mean anything. Malfoy doesn't even want to marry me. I'm free to do whatever the hell I want, and you know what I feel like doing? Something crazy!”

“Geez, Hermione,” said Ginny, looking at her friend like she'd never seen her before. “It looks like you're going to check off all of the boxes for the perfect hen party all by yourself. Maybe you should let Ron do the puking one though. How many of those Long Island iced teas did you have?”

Hermione shrugged “Three? Hey, can you help me with this?” she said, pointing at her tear and mascara-stained face. “Do one of your beauty spells?”

“But wouldn't that be breaking the no magic rule?” Ginny pointed out.

“Yes,” said Hermione. “But I'm feeling naughty. Very naughty.”

“And who exactly are you planning on being naughty with?”

Hermione shrugged. “I don't know yet, but I think I could have a lot of fun trying to figure it out,” she said, grinning wickedly.


End file.
